Dirty Laundry
by I-write-hurt-not-comfort
Summary: Pandora College - a place full of studious, innovative, and hard-working students, all mid-way through their final year of A Levels, and pushing through the last few weeks before their exams. Their A Level exams, which would most likely dictate how the rest of their lives played out. But beneath that was entirely different challenge. A different struggle; a different story.
1. Chapter 1: (mock) results day

_**(A/Ns: and finally, the fanfic I've been planning for over 6 months has begun! also big massive shoutout to nualie and anyone else who helped me pool together ideas for this. so! first of all, this takes place in the UK, as that's where i am from! between ages 16-18, we sometimes take A Levels, which you tend to take 3 of, 4 if you're really really smart and/or your college allows it. A levels are hard! like, hard! a lot of people don't do em! also hahahaha im an A Level student too, i do biology chemistry and physics. ANYWAYS contextual stuff will also be uk-based so if you have any questions, shoot em! also, because this fic is like, written by me, it's gonna deal with a lot of touchy/potentially triggering subjects, such as eating disorders, self-harm, drug addiction, abuse, rape, pregnancy, and uh, a lot. all content warnings will be appropriately stated at the beginning of each chapter. there will be a lot of shippy stuff but no smut because aahjahkgdslkjgl i do not write smut lol. FINALLY THIS IS GONNA BE FUCKING LONG AS HELL, LIKE 30 CHAPTERS, SO IT'LL PROBABLY TAKE ME LIKE 2 YEARS TO FINISH BUT PLEASE STICK WITH ME lmao.**_

 _ **please do drop a review if you're reading! any ideas for what'll happen yet? there's a fuck ton of foreshadowing here lol.**_

 _ **content warnings: some swearing, that's pretty much it for this chapter!**_

 _ **disclaimer: i do not own Pandora Hearts or Vanitas no Carte)**_

* * *

 **CHAPTER 1**

 _Don't care about what you did  
Only care about what we do_

 _…_

It was a Monday afternoon, in early March, when they collected their mock results.

Each student, lined up outside the college canteen, had taken their A Level mocks across the months of January and February. And now, with every subject graded, it was the time to receive their results.

The atmosphere was thick – _dripping_ with tension as students filed into the room in clusters of friend groups. Rows of white envelopes, ordered alphabetically, stared back at them. To no surprise, some students were much, _much_ more terrified than others.

By this point in the year, almost everyone had gotten at least one offer (or rejection) from the universities they'd applied for. They also had entry requirements. And at this point, if they weren't at least _close_ to those…

Well, that would be an issue.

Of course, _there were only the mocks_ , but that didn't eliminate the nervousness coursing through their veins, as they picked up the envelopes with their names, and flocked into their respective groups.

As usual, the first students to collect their results were Oz, Gilbert, and Alice. (And Vincent, who was Gilbert's brother… who followed Gilbert in every step he took.)

Behind the façade of a beaming smile, Oz trembled internally as they gathered in one corner of the theatre, Gilbert beside him and Alice just ahead of him.

Alice, without a single millisecond of vacillation, tore open her results. Her eyes only had to scan over the sheet once, before she flung it into the air, and clenched a fist in victory. "Aha! Suckers! I only failed one thing!"

"Ah, well done…" Oz said, albeit he couldn't quite grasp she was marvelling over failing a subject. However, he found it difficult to trust that luck was on _his_ side instead. As comfort, with slightly shaking hands, he and Gil both peeled open their envelopes at the same time, shooting each other the odd, nervous glance.

It only took one glance for him to register his grades: Bs in Psychology, Sociology and Business, and C in Biology.

Unable to stop it, Oz felt a disappointed frown tug at his facial features. If he wanted to get into university, he had to get at least one A. But then, his gaze averted to Gilbert, the raven smiling. And that beaming smile was contagious; enough to make Oz smile a little too.

Gilbert, his smile fading slightly, scanned over Oz's grade sheet. "Hey, you passed everything. A-Are you not happy?"

For a few seconds, Oz's gaze appeared to be locked on the paper. Then, after staring in contemplation for a little longer, he simply folded the page in half, glanced up, and smiled at Gilbert. "No, Gil. I'm happy."

Although he suspected the blonde was lying, Gilbert didn't question him; he didn't want to upset him.

"So, what did Gil get~?" Oz chuckled, now back to his usual 'happy-go-lucky' attitude.

"Oh, just…" Gilbert gave a bashful smile, scratching the back of his head in avoidance. "C in Physics, an uh, A in Maths, and… t-the same as you in Business."

Only as Oz complimented him did Gilbert realise how quiet Vincent had gone.

"Vince? How… did you do?"

When Gilbert spoke to him, Vincent's gaze instantly reverted from the floor, following the deceiving smile donning his lips. "It seems as though I am on track for History. I may, however, have to work somewhat harder at Computer Science and Literature if I want to reach my offer of ABB."

"I'm… sure you'll do fine, Vince…" Gilbert said, words dripping with uncertainty. He was fairly certain Vincent bunked half of his lessons – even more as of late – and most of his teachers hated him. Nonetheless, that wasn't his concern. He couldn't be concerned. Concern never went well between the two of them.

"Yes. I hope Gil gets into uni, too," Vincent smiled the smile which no one trusted. "Though, I must leave now. If you'll excuse me."

Without another word, he spun on his heel, and promptly took off.

"Ah…" Oz stammered. "Do you… think he's disappointed?"

"Hm…" Gilbert's face was the epitome of confusion. "I have no idea what he's thinking."

"Hehe, yeah..." Oz laughed, albeit nervously. "So… did you get any more offers?"

It took a few seconds for Gilbert to know what he meant. But when it finally clicked, he couldn't resist as a slight smile tugged at his lips. "Yeah, for Experimental Physics. But it's AAB, so…"

"You'll be fine. Gil is super smart." Oz grinned at him, before scanning the room, and laying eyes on three of their other friends. "Ooh! Let's go see how they did!"

The group Oz excitedly ran over to, with Gilbert and Alice trailing behind, was another sub-group within their main group. And, once again, it consisted of a mere three people: Sharon, Reim, and Break. (Oz always called them they _'glasses squad'_ considering every single one of them wore glasses).

Reim and Sharon were both incredibly hard-working, and as a result of that, each had offers at Cambridge university; Sharon would read Medicine, and Reim would read Classics. They were also well-known as a couple, but hanging around them never felt at all awkward.

Break, on the other hand, was the polar opposite. He was lazy, and definitely _not_ aiming as high. Oh, and why he'd taken Sociology A-Level, _no one knew_.

"How'd you guys do?" Oz asked as he bound up to them, waving his result sheet around.

"Ah, Oz. It seems as though you're here for the grand opening~" Break chuckled, clutching his envelope between two hands. But he had yet to open it. "Sharon? Ladies first~"

"Gladly," Sharon said, bold and proud. With little hesitancy, she slit open the top of the envelope, and pulled out the sheet, reading over it briefly. Her confident expression remained unchanging as she read them out. "A* in Psychology, A* in Biology, A in Maths, and A in Chemistry. I think I'll be okay getting into Cambridge, don't you?"

The chorus of "congratulations" she received from everyone was nothing new.

From beside her, Reim smiled, although seemed slightly intimidated at the same time. (Nothing new there). Nervously, he proceeded to open his envelope.

After reading the grades listed, his face conveyed a mix of emotions, but the positivity woven into his smile didn't falter even once.

"And Reim?" Sharon grabbed his attention rather abruptly, folding her results sheet over and pocketing it. "How did you do?"

"Well first of all, I obtained an A* in Latin, which I am very pleased with. I also achieved A's in French and Sociology, so this is on track as well." He paused speaking for the sake of cleaning his glasses frantically. "However, I appear to only have obtained a B in History, but that's okay! To me, that clearly provides something to work on. If I am to get the grades for Cambridge, that is."

With everyone marvelling over the couple's extraordinary success, no one noticed that Break had already opened his results.

Oz was, as expected, the first to notice.

His face was the picture of disappointment, though. And his gaze, locked on the page, seemed fixated on one single grade.

"Break? How'd… you do?"

Break didn't answer; the circle fell silent.

"Break? Are you… okay?"

The second Gilbert spoke, as opposed to Oz, Break's gaze shifted from the page to meet his eyes. His expression now nonchalant, he discreetly adjusted the part of his fringe which lay over his glasses, before a sad smile crept onto his lips. Whether it was out of regret or self-loathing or something else entirely, no one would know. "Ah, yes, I'm okay. I could have done better, though, but they could be worse, right~?

"Yeah, maybe…" Reim's eyes fell to the floor, as if he was unable to bring himself to look directly at the other. "W-What did you get, if you don't mind sharing?"

Initially, Break seemed reluctant to read his results aloud. However, after a few seconds, he glanced at the sheet again, and then said with an indecipherable tone, "C in Chemistry, D in Physics, and E in Sociology~"

Silence returned once again.

"I… really thought you had a chance with Sociology…" Reim said quietly, unable to force a smile upon his lips. "But… I'll help you catch up, i-if you want."

"A-And if you want help with Physics, I'd be happy…" Gilbert attempted to flash him a smile, however it came across as an awkward attempt at sympathy, rather than sincerity. "I know you don't have Maths as well, so there's some stuff that's more-"

"You needn't worry about me," Break cut him off, slipping the sheet into the shirt pocket of his jacket without another glimpse of it. "I can assure you that I am fine with how I did, despite what it seems~"

"Well… ok…" Reim seemed totally unconvinced, but at the same time, he didn't want to start any arguments.

Oz, on the other hand, seemed mostly unfazed by the tension in the air; a breath of fresh air for them, really. Excitedly, he waved at the other two main members of their group – Elliot and Leo – before running over to them. "Hey! Guys! How'd you do?!"

"Tch, don't be sound loud," Elliot winced exaggeratingly, earning a discreet chuckle from his partner, Leo.

Elliot and Leo weren't your average couple. In fact, if you hadn't ever seen them interact, you wouldn't think they had _any_ compatibility whatsoever. They were total opposites; Elliot was from a rich, aristocratic family, whilst Leo was living with foster parents and about seven foster siblings. And, of the two, Elliot was much, _much_ more hard-working.

But Leo was _significantly_ smarter. Somehow. No one really knew how or why.

"Ah, Elliot's just bitter," Leo chuckled, nudging his boyfriend and earning a glare in response. "Why don't you tell Oz what you got, Elliot?"

"Stop mocking me," Elliot scolded him, albeit lightly. With a second scoff, he opened the results sheet again, and read them aloud. "Biology: B. Literature: B. Music: A. Drama: A."

"Well… well done on Biology!" Oz was beaming, sure enough. "Ah, hehe… I only got a C… anyway! Leo?"

"Gladly." Leo's grin was ever smugger and more arrogant than Sharon's. "Biology: A. Literature: A*. Music: A*. And Drama: A."

"Ah! Leo, you did amazing!" Oz gawked. "Oh, and… congrats on getting into Oxford! Hehe, I don't know if I ever said it formally…"

"Thank you, _Oz_ ," Leo's grin, much to Elliot's apparent irritation, only widened. "It's nice to know someone isn't _jealous_."

"Oi! Stop makin' shit up!" Elliot said, as he folded his arms over his chest and pouted. "Tch, I'm still going to a Russell Group uni…"

"Hm, yes, but it's not _Oxford_ , is it?" Leo replied with a derisive snort, pulling his phone out of his pocket discreetly.

" _Watch it_ , shorty."

"Insult my height again, and you're getting punched."

Needless to say, that argument quickly (and _irrationally_ ) progressed, until Oz and Gilbert were having to jump in and separate them, as per usual.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, there was the "popular kids" group, you might say.

Everyone knew who they were, everyone knew their gossip, and everyone knew who and when they'd each slept with each other, or another random member of the college.

They _relished_ in such attention.

Primarily, the group consisted of Levi, Oswald, and the girls – Domi, Lottie, Jeanne, Lacie, and Ada.

In terms of grades, they were all fairly similar, achieving anything between A* and B, usually. And if their college days could be summed up in one slogan, it would be _"work hard, play hard"_.

Really, in almost two years of A Levels, that had yet to change.

The first of them, Levi, managed to get into all five universities he'd applied for to read Law without doing a single bit of extra reading last year. Thus, boldly, and with no nerves or hesitation, he ripped open his results sheet and read the grades aloud. "A* in Philosophy, B in Psychology, and A in Law. Woah, crazy shit."

"I have to say, I'm surprised you got an A in Law~" Lottie said, her tone condescending, as she wrapped her fingers around his arm. "Ah, but you haven't beaten my A*, I'm afraid~"

Levi smirked. "Language and Latin?"

"Let's not pay attention to the trivial things. For no revision I'd say a D and C is passable."

No one – not even Domi, who was Lottie's best friend since childhood – knew what Levi and Lottie were to each other. Partners? Friends with benefits? Partners in crime?

Who _knew_?

All they _really_ knew was that the two had slept with each other _on multiple occasions._

Speaking of Domi, she was undoubtably the next to tear open her results, shamelessly like everything else she did.

Domi had never been a favourite of the teachers. She was arrogant, problematic, argumentative, but also _incredibly_ smart. Not hard-working, mind you – she had yet to actually complete an assignment. And yet, still, the references from her teachers were apparently enough to get her an offer for Politics with French, at AAA.

"Congratulations on that A*~" Domi bound up to Lottie and engulfed her in a tight hug, her own slip of paper falling open. "Who _really_ cares about English Language?"

"Not me, evidently, although I _do_ have offers of AAB," Lottie said, winking at her best friend. "So? Yours~?"

"Nosey," Domi teased, but read them out with no qualms. "Bs in History and Drama, and an A in French. Considering French is _technically_ my first language, I _should_ have gotten A*. Ah, it sees I'm out of practice, though." Her gaze then fell on Jeanne, as she nudged her arm suggestively. " _Tu pourrais peut-être m'aider~?_ "

Jeanne immediately flushed of colour. "Eh?!"

"I'm messing with you, of course~" Domi purred. Delicate fingers brushed over the paper in Jeanne's hold. "How'd you do?"

"A-Ah…" Jeanne stammered, clearly flushed by the random display of… affection, maybe? "Um, I got an A in law, and eh, Bs in History and… French."

"Oh~?" Domi's fingers, laced between Jeanne's, only tightened. "Maybe _I_ can help _you_?"

Her face now bright red, Jeanne instantly tore her eyes away from Domi. "T-That won't be necessary."

"Domi, you're very off-putting," Lottie shook her head, teasingly scolding her. "Is Lacie coming in today?"

"Oswald said she would," Levi said, "Although I don't see him anywhere."

Lottie's mouth dropped open to retort with some snarky, derisive comment. But before she could, Ada arrived, running over to Domi and engulfing her in a hug.

Domi was, of course, beaming. "More female attention, aye? I'm on _fire_ ~"

Oh, and that was another thing – Domi was _totally_ shameless about being bisexual. Albeit most of the group were convinced she hadn't been with a guy even once. And _everyone_ knew her and Jeanne had each had a thing for each other back in year 11.

"I got a B in Art!" she squealed, eyes almost glazed with tears of joy. "And I passed History!"

Sure enough, the chorus of "congratulations!" commenced.

Ada wasn't necessarily a main member of their group. Really, she was popular with everyone. She may not have been the brightest of them, but anyone you asked would say she was the kindest, most earnest person they'd ever met.

A few moments later, the final two – Oswald and Lacie – arrived, Lacie strutting ahead of him into the canteen like her attendance was _above_ 50%.

To tell the truth, Oswald and Lacie were quite the enigma amongst the group. They were twins, and if you brushed aside appearances, they were total opposites. Oswald was studious (to some extent) whereas Lacie showed up to college less than half the year. And, although he claimed to care, Oswald had never lifted a finger in telling her otherwise. In fact, Oswald never lifted a finger to do anything, really.

Their parents were, for some reason, hardly in the picture. To the group's understanding, they worked long business trips away from home, thus the twins themselves never had to work for themselves.

"Nice to see you showing up for once," Domi snorted, as Lacie finally reached the group, the envelope ready to be opened.

"It's nice to be here, too," Lacie responded with a sarcastic grin. Dutifully, she tore open the top, and pulled out the results which everyone waited eagerly to hear. "B in Philosophy, B in Psychology, and an A in Computer Science. So my teacher can suck my dick."

At that, Lottie, Domi and Jeanne erupted into a hysterical fit of laughing. Truly, they would never be able to get over how Lacie managed to do so well without showing up to the classes.

"And you, Oswald?" Levi smirked, nudging the noirette on the shoulder discreetly.

His gaze, stoic as usual, lifted slightly. He opened the results, and, after very little time to read them himself, he passed them to Levi.

"AAA. Smartass."

"Our UCAS points add up to the same," Oswald said bluntly, pointing at Levi's sheet.

"Are you proud of your sister, Oswald~?" Domi said. Of the group, she was the only person who ever dared to piss Oswald off.

Not including Lacie, of course. "Even if he was, he wouldn't say."

"I'm sure he's beaming with joy inside," Levi replied as sarcastically as everything else he said. "If not, I'll treat you to a reward myself."

"No, Levi, I will _not_ sleep with you," Lacie politely rejected, albeit the devilish smile donning her lips suggested otherwise.

Levi shrugged, and grumbled under his breath in misery, "Worth a shot."

"Any of you hear how Jack did?" Lacie asked, as she slyly scanned the room for the blonde.

Jack was Lacie's ex, who she'd dumped last year because of the multiple accusations he'd fired at her. Since then, he seldom interacted with them, but every now and again, an awkward encounter would occur.

"Well…" Ada piped up, keeping her voice low. "Vince just told me he, eh, failed everything, I think…"

"He can't have passed when he didn't show up to any of the exams," Domi said, smirking. "Anyway~ If that's all the business I have here, I think I'll go and pay a visit to my dear Noé~" she then declared, finally letting go of Jeanne and leaving her alone. She turned on her heel, sending a dismissive wave their way as she headed towards the centre of the room.

Noé was Domi's brother, and even though they weren't related by blood, they'd known each other since they were 11. They lived with Domi's grandfather, who had been and will always be a catalyst to their ever-growing sibling bond.

It wasn't _entirely_ mutual, though – Domi was a _lot_ more protective over Noé than the other way around.

She didn't exactly approve of his group, either. But nonetheless, for Noé's sake, she still forced herself to interact with them.

"Domi!" Noé yelled the moment he spotted Domi making her way over. "How did you do?!"

"Amazingly, my dear Noé," she said, flinging an arm around his shoulders and peering over at his results sheet. "I want to know about you!"

"Domi, I'm glad you asked!" Noé was _genuinely_ beaming; to compare him to an excited puppy would be… actually pretty accurate. "First of all, despite how badly it went for _all of us_ , I got an A in French! Can you believe it?! Ooh, and I got an A in Literature, which really surprised me actually, because that exam went horrifically! History was a B, and I'm happy with that too! Particularly since that paper 1 was also _horrendous_! And lastly, I got a C in Sociology. But! That doesn't matter because I only need AAB to do French at the Univers-"

"Noé, that's enough," Domi cut him off with a finger over his lips and a smile he _always_ fell for. "I have to say, though, I am _surprised_ even _you_ didn't get an A* in French. Did anyone?"

"Yeah, one person," Noé answered, before waving to the others. "Flo! Come here!"

"Tch," said person he gestured to snorted, blatantly unimpressed. "Who're you showing me off to this time?"

Flo – _technically_ Florence, but you'd get punched if you dared to call her that – was most likely the smartest of that group. (Although that wasn't difficult when there were only four of them). She was also two years younger than the rest of them, having moved to England from France a few years ago, and consequently ending up in a different year group. And even since then, she'd skipped a year.

But, to let her age and pastel pink hair fool you would be naïve. She was by _far_ the most savage of them, and when that group included _Vanitas_ , you _knew_ she meant business.

"Domi hasn't seen anyone who got A* in French," Noé said.

Tension lingered; Domi and Flo had never liked each other.

Noé, of course, was oblivious to such tension.

"Anyway, I'll be off before that rat Vanitas shows up." Ah, yes, Vanitas. Noé's boyfriend. Another person Domi hated.

Sure enough, though, the moment she said his name, Vanitas showed up. A fleeting second passed where he didn't acknowledge it was her, but the moment he did, he froze in his tracks, before exhaling a disgusted _'huff'._ "What the fuck is she doing here?"

"Vanitas, be nice," Noé scolded, rolling his eyes.

A little like Elliot and Leo, without seeing them together, anyone with half a brain would take one look at Vanitas and Noé, and just _know_ they weren't compatible. After all, Noé was hard-working, enthusiastic, and well on his way to a Russell Group university, whereas Vanitas was moody, feisty, and… currently failing everything.

But, of course, that didn't stop them from having a four-year relationship, which was still going strong.

"I see you failed everything, then?"

Vanitas shrugged, and then proceeded to tear the paper in his hands in half. "I passed French. And I care fuck all about Literature and Art."

Ignoring Vanitas and flat-out refusing to comment on his mass failure, Noé turned to Flo again. "Where's Roland?"

"Why would I care?" Flo snorted, but reluctantly answered anyway. "He's gone to flaunt his A* in R.S. to everyone."

"Asshole," Vanitas muttered under his breath. He _hated_ Roland more than he hated Flo. "So, you beat your boyfriend in R.S. or what?"

"He is _not_ my boyfriend!" she refused through gritted teeth, clenching the fist which was dangerously close to decking Vanitas in the fact. "And _no_ , I got a B."

"Ha." Vanitas snorted.

"Better than your one C and two Es."

"Hey, hey, stop," Noé, once again, found himself in the middle of another dispute. However, his assistance didn't last long, as Roland soon came bouncing over to him. "Roland!"

Roland's eyes were sparkling.

It made Vanitas want to vomit.

"Well done on the A*!" Noé congratulated, his eyes wide like Roland's, as they switched papers and continued gawking over each other's results.

Across from them, Vanitas simply rolled his eyes, slipping out his phone and kicking back against one of the tables. "They're at it again."

"I don't see why Roland is so happy. He failed art," Flo commented. "Oi, ass, listen to me."

"Sorry, all I hear is droning," Vanitas drawled, and then flashed her a brief yet patronising grin.

At that, the pair entered round two of their bickering.

That was completely normal for them, though.

In fact, for every single person who stood in that room, none of this was _really_ any different. All it consisted of was pretend grades on a piece of paper which, in a few months' time, when the real thing came around, would probably dictate each and every one of their futures.

Fortunately, they still had a long, _long_ way to go before then.

 _And long it would be_.

…

 _Dirty laundry  
Looks good on you_

* * *

 _ **"Tu pourrais peut-être m'aider~?" = "Maybe you could help me~?" (thanks nua, once again!)**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**(A/Ns: and so it begins! so i know this is a bit of a filler but theres so much ffffucking foreshadowing and it just sets everything up. the next chapter will be pretty similar ngl. as for the chapter title, and the summary, they're just song titles of songs which i felt fit the tone of it. it's nothing too serious. also look i updated in under 3 weeks and that's impressive for me alright.**_

 _ **content warnings: smoking, swearing, vanitas pissing everyone off, brief mentions of alcohol, levi talking about his dick a lot**_

 _ **enjoy!**_

 _ **disclaimer: i do not own pandora hearts or vanitas no carte)**_

* * *

 **CHAPTER 2: nothing**

"If you keep talking to me, I'll fucking punch you."

"Don't give me that shit! _You're_ the one who started this!"

"Bitch, _no_. _I'm_ not the one who keeps bragging about their French grade!"

"Yeah, but just because you're jealous, it doesn't mean you have the right to _lie_ to everyone that I cheated!"

"Oh please, don't be a drama queen. I told _two_ people."

"Hmph."

At that, Flo frowned, folded her arms over her chest, and declared that the end of their argument.

Vanitas, on the other hand, found himself smirking. With the satisfaction that he'd successfully pissed her off fuelling the smug grin donning his lips, he plugged both headphones back in his ears, and completely ignored Flo's attempts to speak to him.

Meanwhile, across from them, Roland was totally disengaged from the entire dispute, his attention instead devoted to reading.

The three had been in the library for over an hour and a half now, being stuck together for their double 'study periods' – no one actually studied during them. The time was coming to an end now, which was fortunate, since Vanitas and Flo were both on the verge of _actually_ killing the other.

"Wait," Vanitas pulled the earbud out of his left earbud momentarily, "is he _seriously_ reading a fucking _bible_?"

"He's been reading it for the past hour, dipshit." Flo rolled her eyes at him. "He's not listening to us, either."

Flo was right; Roland was oblivious to the fact they were even speaking about him.

"Fucking weirdo…" Vanitas grumbled.

"Did you do the Literature homework?" she asked, right before the earbud made its way back into his ear.

Vanitas blinked at her exactly three times. "We had Lit homework?"

"You are _insufferable_ ," Flo commented, rolling her eyes back at him with equal attitude. " _Yes_. Maybe you'd _know_ if you showed up to more than one lesson a week!"

He snorted in derision. "Bold of you to assume I show up to one lesson every week."

"You're right. How stupid of me," she said, words dripping heavily with sarcasm.

"Good to know you've finally come to terms with that." After glancing up at the clock, Vanitas didn't hesitate in pulling out his pack of rolling tobacco and paper.

The glare fixed on Flo's face stayed consistently vicious as Vanitas began rolling a cigarette at an antagonising rate. He never paid that much attention to detail, so it was _obvious_ that his end goal was _pissing her off._

And oh boy, was it working.

"Noé told you to stop smoking during study periods," she scolded, folding her arms over her chest with an audible _'hmph'_.

"Yeah, well Noé's not here, is he?" Vanitas retorted. With his bitter-as-ever scowl locking on her, he brought the cigarette to his lips, sealing it before clutching it between two fingers and pulling his coat over his shoulders. "Besides, _'study periods'_ my ass. When's the last time you saw me open a book in this dumbass library?"

"Your grades reflect that."

"Seriously, go fuck yourself," he spat, standing up and throwing his rucksack over his shoulder. "If Noé asks where I've gone, say I went to the bathroom."

"As if I'd cover for your ass."

"Love you too."

And with that – along with a bitter smile – Vanitas left.

"Did you hear _any_ of that?" Flo rolled her eyes, turning back to Roland.

Roland didn't even flinch at the hostility of her words.

"Oi!" She smacked his arm, forcefully stealing his attention from the bible. "Are you even listening to me?!"

"Hm?" Roland glanced up. The smile on his lips was genuinely pure, and Flo failed to stay mad at him. "Of course I am!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!" Roland was beaming. For some reason. "I'm always listening! You were arguing with Vanitas, and now he's gone. Now, in four seconds, Noé will be arriving."

Flo shot him a perplexed glance, but before she could say anymore – exactly as Roland had predicted – Noé appeared behind them, bounding up to the duo.

Within a second, however, the optimistic expression was replaced with a disappointed, confused one. "Where's Vani?"

Flo cringed internally; she always cringed when Noé called Vanitas _'Vani'_. Rolling her eyes, she quickly came to the conclusion that going with Vanitas' cover story was easier than arguing with him later over it. "He went to the b-"

"He's gone for a cigarette," Roland answered, clearly _oblivious_ to Flo's pissed off glaring. "What? Lying is a sin."

"Idiot…"

"That's very honourable, Roland! I envy your honesty!" Noé said, smiling wide as he clenched a fist determinedly, as if he'd just re-evaluated his entire life choices right then. A few moments later, however, he returned to looking let down, in a way. "He ignored me then, huh?"

"I don't see what else you were expecting," Flo grunted, "Anyway, Roland and I are going to the new club they're running at the Humanities department. You coming?"

"Why of course!" Noé, once again, was beaming, after his fifth 180 personality flip that minute. "Let me get Vanitas!"

"As if that's gonna work…"

Before she could be heard, Noé had already spun on his heel, turned towards the exit, and instigated the search for his boyfriend.

* * *

By this time, at the very beginning of lunch, most students had finished their fourth lesson, and were now heading to either the canteen, or the common room. For some, who had just had a free period, they were already where they needed to be.

Like Oz and Alice, for example, who had just spent fifty minutes in the common room sifting through offers – and _rejections,_ mostly – for Alice's university applications.

"Did you get anything back from your fourth choice?" Oz asked. His arms, folded on the desk, were currently acting as a pillow for the side of his face, as his will to continue slowly faded away.

"Yeah, they rejected me!" Alice pouted and crossed her arms stubbornly. "Idiots. I would've been a great student there!"

"Ah, maybe if you _passed_ you subjects…" Oz murmured.

"Don't sass me," she said, picking up the pen and balancing it on Oz's head, evidently _beyond_ bored at this point. "Anything above an E is technically a pass anywhere! So I don't see why I should be getting higher than that!"

"You say that, but… you still have to _pass_! A-And you got a U in Geography!" Oz tried, but was ultimately wasting his breath; Alice seemed utterly disinterested. "Ugh. Just… h-how many other offers do you have?"

"One."

"What is it?"

"CEE for Media. I only have to get C in Media anyway, so I don't know why the teachers are always at me," Alice groaned, "I'm hungry."

"Okay, but… that still doesn't take away from the fact you got a _U_ in Geography."

"It's fine. Someone in my class is going through stuff with me."

Despite being slightly hesitant to believe her at first, Oz felt himself internally breathe a sigh of relief. Finally, he would be able to focus on _his_ A Levels, rather than learning half of the specification for Alice.

And, as if on cue to save Oz from slowly spiralling to insanity, Gilbert arrived at the common room. Wordlessly, he joined their table, sitting next to Oz as always.

With a sheepish grin, Oz slumped against Gilbert's shoulder, exhaling a deep, blatantly _fed up_ sigh, before whining, "Gil… I have given up."

"Uh…" Gilbert muttered, cautiously pulling his lunch from his bag and dumping it on the table in front of them. As he began to unscrew the cap of his drink, he eventually thought of a response. "I… have nothing to say."

"Ha, seaweed head is speechless over my stupidity," Alice snickered, before devouring the first part of her lunch. Which was, unsurprisingly, entirely meat.

"That's nothing to be proud of," Oz deadpanned, furrowing his eyebrows slightly.

"If she wants to fail everything, that's her choice," Gilbert shot back. Glare softening slightly at his next comment, he lowered his voice so that only Oz could hear him. "Don't drive yourself up the wall about it, okay?"

"I won't." Oz smiled at him, softly. But something was missing. Something didn't seem right. But Gilbert could not place a finger on it for the life of him. "I promise, okay, Gil?"

Gilbert nodded. He didn't say anything back.

A second later, Oz peeled himself off him.

"I don't get why everyone is faffing over me for failing," Alice grumbled, sensing the obvious tension. Albeit for all the wrong reasons. "Break failed most of his subjects too."

Immediately, Gilbert and Oz visibly tensed up. The glances they exchanged were more or less unreadable.

"I… don't think you should say anything about that to him…" Gilbert suggested, his awkwardness just barely passing off as politeness.

When Alice let out an audible _'huff'_ , Oz turned to the raven, and asked him discreetly, "Did you find out if he's… genuinely upset about it, yet?"

"No, but…" Gilbert shifted uneasily. "He was speaking to our Physics teacher for a really long time after period 1 today, so… I don't really know, to be honest…"

At that, Oz was just about able to crack a small, but sympathetic smile. "I hope he's okay…"

Gilbert, however, seemed unconvinced. "Yeah, I… hope so too."

Meanwhile, arriving around now was Elliot and Leo. The scowl spread across Elliot's face, crossed with the smug grin donning Leo's, was enough for anyone to deduce that they had, yet again, engaged in a pointless dispute over the recent results.

Before anyone could address the tension, however, Elliot dumped his bag beside them, and then took off to queue for food.

"Is… everything alright?" Oz asked, hesitant to interfere with their relationship.

"Hm… who knows?" Leo felt his phone vibrate within his pocket, discreetly slipping it out and holding it under the table to read it in a moment. "Oh well. He'll get over it."

"Ah…" Oz didn't seem convinced. "Ok…"

Once he was sure no one was paying too much attention, Leo glanced down at his phone.

 **[Tumblr]** ** _allthatglittersaintgoldsweetie sent you a message:_** _how's your day going?_

Ignoring Elliot when he sat back, Leo shuffled along slightly, before tilting his phone so that his boyfriend couldn't read it. Leo didn't need Elliot interrogating him about his online friend. (Or about the fact he had Tumblr, for that matter.)

When he was certain Elliot couldn't see, and was too distracted with ranting to Oz and Gilbert, Leo typed out his reply.

 **[Tumblr]** ** _hell-is-empty:_** _half decent._

 ** _hell-is-empty:_** _rlly want a smoke rn but my bf would kill me_

Just as Elliot's curious gaze trailed his way, Leo clicked off the app and loaded another random tab.

"You're not eating?" he grumbled, scanning Leo up and down.

"No," Leo said bluntly. His phone vibrated in his hand, and he tried his best not to react. Instead, he fiddled with the earphones wire, attached to his phone from earlier, as a futile distraction. "I'm not hungry. I'll eat when I get home."

"Uh, ok…"

Leo's disinterested tone clearly lost Elliot's attention, at which point he glanced down, and read the most recent message.

 **[Tumblr]** ** _allthatglittersaintgoldsweetie sent a message:_** _tough luck. sneak off?_

If he could, he _would_.

"Oi, Leo," Elliot nudged him, somewhat aggressively. Once again, Leo jolted, and shoved his phone back in his pocket. "Let's go."

"Where?" Leo asked, sensing the tension between the group. Clearly, he'd missed something; probably someone pointing out something _logical_ to Elliot when he was mid-rant.

"Music room."

"Alright," Leo shrugged, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket again. He rolled his eyes, waved goodbye to the group, and promptly followed Elliot. "Can we go to the bathroom first?"

"Sure. Whatever," Elliot said, not thinking much of it. "Friday. Are we still on?"

"Depends how much work I have to do."

"Tch, oh please. You and your A*s could do fuck all 'til exam season and you'd still keep the same grades up."

Leo smiled, teasingly dragging a finger along Elliot's arm. "Is that jealously I see again~?"

"No! I'm not jealous of your grades, for the _last time_!"

"Sure, Elliot. Sure."

* * *

Just outside the canteen, tucked away behind two walls where few people could see, was a smoking shelter. Most colleges had one, particularly when half the students would be 18 anyway – it was easier than dealing with students bunking, and much easier than dealing with students lighting up in the toilets. It was still, however, quite discreet, a transparent plastic shelter with a bench inside.

Every lunch, at the same time each day, the same people would be there: that included Vincent, Vanitas, and Levi, along with Lottie and Domi, who hung by at the sides, waiting for Levi.

Vanitas, earphones glued in his ears and eyes locked on his phone screen, was undoubtably zoned out, the cigarette between his fingers occasionally being brought up to his lips, as if he had only then remembered it was there.

Levi, to no surprise, wanted to make conversation.

"So, Vincent," he said with a wiggle of his eyebrows, tapping the ash off his cigarette. "How's dating Ada going?"

"High maintenance, to say the least," Vincent replied, a sinister smile donning his lips. Briefly, he dragged on the cigarette, and spoke again through a plume of smoke. "But I get plenty back."

"Look, that's some good energy right there," Levi winked. He and Vincent weren't close friends or anything, but they were sure as hell on the same wavelength as each other when it came down to their attention from girls, and their attitudes in response to said attention.

A few moments later, the relaxed atmosphere was abruptly interrupted by none other than Noé, running over to them yelling Vanitas' name repeatedly.

Noé was quite well-known among the year group. And that was for a variety of reasons. But he always tried his best to get along with people – perhaps that was why _certain people_ didn't like him all that much.

"Vanitas," he said one last time, and he walked straight up to his boyfriend, pulled the cigarette from between his fingers, and dropped it on his floor.

There was only one person in the world who Vanitas _wouldn't_ slap for doing that so care-free, and that was Noé.

"What?" Vanitas grunted in response, irritably, as he glared down at the cigarette, now snuffed out against the gravel.

"First of all, I told you not to smoke during frees. Flo and Roland reminded you, I'm sure," Noé scolded, although not very seriously. And by the bored, blunt expression on Vanitas' face, he wasn't taking it too seriously, either. "Secondly, we're joining a new society."

"Rejected," Vanitas said nonchalantly.

"Rejection rejected," Noé furrowed his brows slightly. "You did exactly what I asked you _not_ to do, Vanitas."

Eyes flitting down to the cigarette, Vanitas rolled his eyes. Noé, in all fairness, had a point.

"Fine," he said with an exhausted sigh, grumbling under his breath, "but only because you didn't give me a choice…"

"Good!" Noé's stern glare instantaneously disappeared, as he tugged Vanitas' wrist and dragged him down the pathway.

Before he was out of sight, however, Domi snickered, turned away from Lottie for a second, and yelled after him, "You can do better!"

"Be nice!" Noé called back, continuing in his path and hauling Vanitas with him around the corner.

"Alright, I'm done here," Levi declared. He flicked the cigarette aside. "Let's go find the others. I need to find Oswald."

"Why?" Lottie raised an eyebrow quizzically. "So you can have a silent conversation with him?"

"Precisely."

"They'll be in the canteen," Domi said, scrolling through her phone idly. After a savage, bitter, sidelong glance at Levi, she added, "Try not to fuck anyone on the way."

"I'll do my best." Levi gave an exaggerated, exasperated sigh. "See ya, Vincent."

Once he waved the others off – just briefly – and watched them leave, Vincent stayed put for a few minutes, and then lit his second cigarette.

* * *

When Ada finally arrived to the common room, after engaging in a conversation with almost every person she passed in the hallway, it was quite honestly a surprise that the only person there was Jeanne. Usually, Jeanne could only ever be seen with Domi.

Her attention was devoted entirely to the open textbook, and the headphones plugged into her ears meant she didn't notice as Ada tip-toed up to her, tentatively placed the bag down, and took a seat. "Erm… hi!"

"Oh!" Jeanne immediately flinched, a flustered smile creeping onto her face as she flailed her arms apologetically. "Sorry, I didn't see you th-"

"It's fine," Ada laughed. Her laugh was contagious, and Jeanne soon found herself chuckling to herself too.

Ada and Jeanne weren't the closest to each other in the group, but like all members of the group, they were perfectly capable of getting along like a house on fire.

"So…" Jeanne began to ask, with an edge of hesitancy, whilst packing her books away. "How's dating Vincent going?"

"That's the big news of the school, huh?" Ada gave a slightly nervous giggle. "It's fun. He's… always really mysterious, and I can never tell what he's thinking, but… I like him, and… I hope he likes me back."

Jeanne smiled. There was no _way_ that someone _couldn't_ like Ada. "I'm sure he does."

(That being said, it was _Vincent_ they were talking about here, and his reputation with women wasn't always the brightest.)

A moderately awkward silence hung over them briefly, but before it could linger, Domi, Lottie, and Levi arrived. They didn't say anything, but rather made their entrance by Domi sneaking up behind Jeanne, and wrapping her arms around her neck. Jeanne's head froze at first, but then lulled onto the arms enclosing her in a tight, affectionate hug.

"There's my favourite girl-friend, eh~?" Domi purred, directly in Jeanne's ear.

To no surprise, Jeanne was now a blushing mess.

"Looks like you've got some competition," Levi snickered, nudging Lottie hintingly.

"And Domi doesn't either?" Lottie retorted, a savage grin tugging at her lips. Discreetly, she nudged Levi back, winking at him, but taking a seat beside Domi nonetheless.

Whilst Jeanne, Lottie, Domi and Ada all collectively exchanged hugs, and Levi tried not to get turned on by it, Oswald arrived. He didn't say a word, sitting down next to Levi. Not once did his line of view avert from his phone screen.

Once Domi finally sat down, her gaze stiffened, shifted to an interrogative one, and fixed on Oswald. "Where's Lacie, then?"

" _You_ told us you'd bring her in this week, at the very _least_ ," Lottie further scolded, albeit more teasingly than Domi.

Oswald's fingers froze instantly. Then, sharp eyes shot up to glare at Domi.

There was a solid four second pause before he even spoke. "She didn't want to."

Audibly – somehow – Levi rolled his eyes, and flung an arm around Oswald's shoulder. Oswald didn't even flinch; spare the irascible aura he always carried with him. "Basically, Oswald's saying he couldn't be fucked with her today."

"Once again, drag her," Domi said, "Don't give her a choice. We want to see her. Kidnap her."

"I second Domi's plan. It's fool-proof." Lottie said.

Wordlessly, Oswald gave a dismissive shrug. "I don't own her."

"Whatever," Domi groaned, as she sarcastically threw her arms up into the air. "Guess we'll be inviting ourselves to yours later."

"If I don't go, will I be missing anything?" Levi gave another suggestive wink.

"Fuck no," Lottie scanned him up and down, feigning disgust to cover up her amusement at his remark. "Keep your dick out of this."

* * *

Meanwhile, back with Oz, Gilbert and Alice – on the other side of the common room – only five minutes after Elliot and Leo disappeared, Break arrived.

The heavy atmosphere probably said quite clearly they'd been talking about him. But nonetheless, Break chose to ignore it, instead greeting them all as if nothing was different, before reverting his focus to his phone, the hood of his second jacket (he wore about three) covering his face.

Shortly after that, Sharon and Reim emerged from the corridor.

As they slowly approached the group, Reim hastily dropped his hand from Sharon's, leant towards her, and said, "Does Break seem… upset to you?"

Stopping in her tracks, Sharon gave him a reassuring smile. "Now isn't the time to talk about this, okay?"

"Yeah…" Reim tried to protest, but the comforting squeeze at his hand told him better. Wordlessly, he trailed behind Sharon as they continued walking towards the group. "Sorry we're late. Sharon, uh, got kept behind."

"Nothing bad, of course," Sharon declared, as smug as ever. "It was simply another teacher congratulating me on Cambridge. I hope we didn't leave you too long."

"Ah, not at all…" Oz stammered, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. In all fairness, it wasn't _unusual_ for people to be intimidated by Sharon. "Break only got here a couple of minutes ago anyway…"

At the mention of his name, Break didn't even flinch.

"Break?" Reim called. Only then did the other pay attention. "Where did you go?"

Break didn't respond immediately, instead fiddling with the small black ring on his septum until it was straight, rather pointedly – Reim was holding back his comments. With a disregarding shrug, he answered casually, "I got lunch. Is that okay~?"

There was a biting edge of bitterness woven deeply into his words, but for the sake of avoiding any arguments, Reim chose to pretend it didn't exist. "What did you get?"

"This," Break said as he promptly reached into his bag, and pulled out a tub of ice-cream.

"… _that's_ your lunch?"

"Of course~!" Break perked up within a second, whipping a spoon out of nowhere and digging in. "This is veeeeeery nutritious, you know."

Reim cocked an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Definitely!" Break nodded. "You see, I'm a Scientist – I know these things. Reim only studies pointless subjects."

Ignoring that last comment, something fluorescent blue in a bottle in Break's bag caught Reim's eye. And, despite knowing Reim could see, Break didn't stop him as he peered over, and once again raised a judgemental eyebrow. "Seriously, Xerx?"

If calling him by his first name touched a nerve, Break didn't show it. Instead, he continued devouring the ice cream, and Reim soon gave up any concerns which may have built up.

Until _Vincent_ arrived, at least.

He didn't say a word, instead wrapping his arms around Gilbert's neck, and nestling his head in his shoulder with a sinister smile.

Gilbert shot a perplexed, _extremely_ uncomfortable side glance to Oz. Clueless, Oz shrugged, silently laughing at Gilbert's expression of pure horror. A few seconds later, though, he froze, turned his head sideways, and sniffed. "Have you been smoking again?"

"Of course not," Vincent flashed his brother an innocent smile, but didn't pull away.

From across the table, a toxic scowl morphed onto his features, Break called, "He's lying!"

At that, Break got an elbow to the ribs from Reim, and an unimpressed glare from Vincent, who finally pulled away from Gilbert and allowed him to breathe again.

"Stop trying to stir problems," Reim whispered.

Break, however, had clearly been sent into a mood, readjusting his glasses matter-of-factly before plugging his earphones back in and ignoring Reim's continuous attempts at conversation.

The rest of lunch proceeded as usual, normal conversations with the usual jokes. That, and Break not uttering a word, considering Vincent seemed to have invited himself to sit down, and no one had the guts to tell him to leave.

A few minutes before lunch finished, when Reim and Sharon left early for period 5 classes, Break stood up abruptly. Unplugging his headphones for the first time in twenty minutes, he slipped out the bottle of water from his bag, downed some of it, and then blinked momentarily at Reim and Sharon.

"Good to see you're still here," Reim said sarcastically, albeit sarcasm had never been his strong point, so really, it just came across as awkward.

"Ah, sorry, I'm heading to the bathroom," Break smiled as he flung the rucksack over his shoulder. "See you in Sociology~"

As Break headed off in the opposite direction, neither Reim nor Sharon said a word. Exchanging concerned glances at each other, they didn't realise they'd been holding their breaths until Break was out of sight.

"I know there's something wrong with him," Sharon said, her words soft. "But I can't place a finger on it…"

"Yeah…" Reim murmured, "I don't want to poke at it too hard, though. Otherwise we'll have a repeat of… of last time."

"Now isn't the time to discuss _this_ , either," Sharon discreetly took his hand in hers, giving the usual comforting squeeze which, alone, said " _I'm here"_ , and was always enough to calm him down. "I have Psychology now. Care to walk with me?"

"O-Of course," Reim found himself flustered. That girl worked miracles sometimes.

Unfortunately, whatever sense of ease she'd given him was proving to be temporary, as soon as Reim walked into Sociology, and saw an empty desk next to his seat. Within his chest, he felt his heart sink.

Thoughts of apprehension and distress at _where the hell Break was_ lingered in his consciousness, but nevertheless, he still acted normal, submitting his essay to the teacher. Taking a seat, he simply waiting anxiously for the other to arrive.

Fifteen minutes into the lesson, and he finally rocked up.

Given that he was mid-sentence, the teacher didn't interrogate Break about why he was late, glaring at him instead then continuing his lesson.

The moment the teacher stopped speaking, and a chorus of murmurs over the current task filled the room, Reim took the questioning upon himself.

"Why are you so late?" he asked, eyebrows pinched together.

"Ah ah ah, Reim. This is nothing~" Break quipped, balancing the pen between two fingers and teasingly knocking Reim on the head. "Don't be nosey~"

"Yeah…" Reim refused to meet eyes with the other. "Sorry."

His apology was, however, insincere.

Whatever it was which was causing, well… _this_ , was nothing worth fretting over. Not when Break had built a wall around himself, at least.

For both of their sakes, and Sharon's too, he could only hope that it _was_ nothing after all.

The nagging voice at the back of his head told him otherwise.


	3. Chapter 3

**_(A/Ns:_** ** _it's been under 3 weeks and i'm Proud, fight me. okay so this chapter is like, what goes on after school, and the next chapter is like, what's going on in the evening. im still setting the scene for a lot of their backgrounds. chapter 5 is when the really juicy plot points commence. don't miss the foreshadowing here though lol._**  
 ** _content warnings: swearing, smoking, light drinking, mentions of mental health issues/therapy, references to domestic abuse, mentions of family death, some sexual discussions._**  
 ** _enjoy!_**

 ** _disclaimer: i do not own Pandora Hearts or Vanitas no Carte)_**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

Gilbert had never liked confrontation.

Unfortunately, for almost as long as he could remember, his life had consisted of him, and Vincent. Their parents were, for the most part, out of the picture, working an excessive number of hours each day just to support their kids financially.

They hadn't always lived like that, mind you. Gilbert's earliest memories were positive. Their parents used to work for a large company – the company owned by Oz's father, that was – but when Vincent and him were 4 and 5, they were made redundant.

Those days were, needless to say, not his brightest memories. Nonetheless, they still had a roof over their head, so Gilbert didn't like to complain.

The ordeal had clearly taken a greater toll on Vincent, though. And even at the age of 17, he was still sent to a therapist three times a week, for the same problems he'd been diagnosed with 10 years ago.

His performance in college was no better, and, as he pulled up to their driveway, Gilbert had to prepare himself for yet _another_ confrontation, after his teachers had oh-so-politely informed him that Vincent had bunked last period.

With that, they threatened to contact their parents _again_. He hated when their parents got dragged into these things. They were working their hardest to keep them alive; Vincent should be _his_ responsibility in college.

Clambering out of his car, he drew in a deep breath, and headed towards the front door.

The house was silent at first, and Gilbert almost let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps there wouldn't be a confrontation after all. Maybe Vincent had already left.

Stepping into the lounge, Gilbert promptly dropped his bag onto the sofa, before digging into it, and retrieving the pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket.

Smoking wasn't something he was proud of, by any means. It was merely something which Break had tricked him into starting early in year 12. He tried to keep it at bay – Oz would be disappointed, and he knew it – but ultimately, Gilbert had always been weak-willed, so everyday when he returned from college, nothing stopped him reaching for the pack, and sneaking out to their back garden.

As he wandered into kitchen, Gilbert was reminded of the _one thing_ which _did_ stop him getting his post-college nicotine fix: Vincent.

For some reason, he always felt guilty smoking around Vincent, considering the other started shortly after him, so Gilbert always blamed himself. He was still his younger brother, if only by 10 months.

Clenching the pack, like a reflex, he froze when Vincent turned around, and laid eyes on him through the open door. "Ah, Gil. Welcome home."

Gilbert slipped the pack discreetly back into his pocket. "Your, erm, teachers spoke to me when college ended. Why did you leave?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Gil," Vincent said, dropping the cigarette into the ashtray. He smiled, the same way he always did, which _no one trusted_.

"Don't make this difficult," Gilbert sighed, trying not to let his frustration show in his words. "You bunked Literature. Elliot said you weren't there either."

"I apologise." Vincent's words were totally insincere.

"You haven't answered my question."

"Don't worry about it, Gil."

"That's not an answer."

"Sorry."

Gilbert blinked exactly four times. "That's still not an answer."

At that, Vincent didn't respond. Instead, he shuffled back into the house, glanced down at his phone briefly, before pocketing it, and grabbing his coat. "I'll be leaving now."

"What?" Gilbert found himself irritably cocking an eyebrow at his brother. "Vince, you know I have to drive you to therapy in ten minutes."

"I have plans to meet someone, I'm afraid," was the only explanation Vincent offered, as he checked his phone once again, and then spun on his heal towards the door. "Don't wait up for me."

"Hey! Vince! Don't leave when I'm-!"

The door slammed shut.

"- speaking… to you…" Gilbert's words trailed off, as he came to the quick conclusion that this time, it really wasn't worth the stress.

He hated yelling at Vincent, too. It got them nowhere.

All it accomplished was driving Vincent further away, and making Gilbert blame himself for everything even more.

With Vincent now gone, though, Gilbert took the opportunity to step outside himself, retrieve the cigarettes back from his pocket, and light up.

The nicotine coursing through his blood from the first inhale was hardly relief, but at the very least, it took the edge off.

After the third drag, reluctantly, he reached back into his pocket, and pulled out his phone again.

It was already nearly 3:30pm. And, like every evening, Gilbert was working from 6pm to 9pm. It wasn't much – a simple job in a nearby café – but it was enough to support his own expenses. Unfortunately, it left him very little time for himself, which, today in particular, wasn't easy, considering he had a business essay and two sets of Physics questions due tomorrow.

With another deep drag of the cigarette, Gilbert simply decided that tonight would be another night where sleep was not the priority.

* * *

"Hey! Alice! Wait up!"

By the time Alice realised that Oz was calling after her, he'd already caught up, and was walking along side her like normal.

"Hey Oz!" Alice greeted, a beaming smile on her face.

In the same way his did to other people, Alice's smile always made Oz smile too. "You seem happy."

"I am!" Alice said, "My dad made chicken wings!"

"Ah… uh, nice!" Oz tried to seem excited to mask his disappointment. "So uh, I guess that means you can't stay after school with me, huh?"

Confused, Alice turned to him. "Was I meant to?"

"Well… you've still got a lot of revision to do, I guess. A-And you have a Geography test next week." Oz sighed internally. He knew it was pointless, but he felt too defeatist giving up. So, he persevered. "Are you sure you can't stay for maybe, uh, half an hour?"

"Sorry Oz." Alice didn't _sound_ particularly apologetic. "You heard me, my dad made chicken wings!"

"Ah, yeah. Sorry. I guess you're right."

Oz had met Alice's parents plenty of times. And they were some of the nicest people he'd ever met. Whenever he needed something, they'd always be there. Albeit Oz could rarely take up the offers, but he never underestimated the sentiment.

However, Alice was an only child. She was spoilt, having had everything she'd wanted handed to her. They weren't rich or anything, but anything lacking in material gain would always be made up with attention. The focus in Alice's household was always _Alice_. Despite this, they didn't push her academically, which is why Oz ended up being the one to remind her to actually _work_ and _do assignments_ and _show up to lessons._

"How about tomorrow?" Oz asked.

Suspiciously, Alice narrowed her eyes at him, and folded her arms over her chest. "Why not just go home? You can't spend your whole life at college, ya know!"

"Yeah, sorry. My bad." He lowered his head, his gaze falling to the floor.

Titling her head, Alice tried to meet eyes with him again. "Are you okay?"

It was a simple, straight-forward question, and her words didn't seem overly concerned. And yet, Oz still found there was a lump in his throat when he answered. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'll… see you tomorrow."

"Well… okay! Bye!"

With that, she was bouncing out of the college, and towards her dad's car, parked only across the street.

Once he was alone, Oz sighed, pulled out his phone, and checked the time.

He wasn't going to make the bus now, and his father worked a lot; he wouldn't make time to come and pick his son up. But the next bus wasn't for another hour. And Oz would rather not sit in the library alone for an hour.

Reluctantly, he pulled out his phone, and dialled the first number which came up.

"Hey, Gil."

 _"_ _Uh… Oz?"_ Gilbert sounded flustered, almost as if he hadn't meant to answer the call.

"Are you home yet?" Oz asked, trying to sound less… desperate, in a sense.

" _Yeah… I have work at six_."

"Oh."

There was a short pause. A silence, which lingered over the call.

" _Oz?_ "

"Yeah, ignore me." Oz shook it off. "Forget I said anything. I'm guessing you have work to be doing."

" _Wait. W-Why did you call me in the first place?_ "

"I missed the bus." He laughed, sheepishly.

" _Oh…_ " Another brief pause. " _Did you… want me to drive you home?_ "

Oz felt his stomach twist into knots.

 _"_ _Oz?_ "

He hadn't realised he'd gone silent.

"No thanks," Oz smiled. "I'd rather stay here until I have to leave."

 _"_ _Ok… well, I-I'll come and do work there, I guess. Just… give me five minutes."_

"You don't have to do that, Gil," Oz tried. Now, he just felt guilty. He should've never dragged Gilbert into this. Gilbert clearly had better things to do with his time.

 _"_ _No, it's okay. Maybe I'll work better there. At least Vincent won't show up."_

"Yeah, he's… not here," Oz chuckled, trying to hide the lump in his throat. Even hearing Vincent's name unsettled him, more so when he was alone. "Thanks, Gil."

Although he couldn't see him, he was fairly certain Gilbert was smiling. _"Yeah, no problem."_

The phone call ended with the usual _beep_.

He knew that, ultimately, Gilbert hadn't _wanted_ to agree. But, out of pity, he still said yes. At that thought, Oz had to sigh, shake his head, and laugh tragically at himself. He'd pity himself too.

Sure enough, by the time Oz reached the library and set up in the corner of the room, like he did most days, his phone vibrated.

 ** _[From Gilllllllll :3, 15:24]  
_** _im leaving now._

Sometimes, Oz felt like he didn't deserve Gil, but at least he had someone _there_ for him.

* * *

The girls had always been some of the last students to leave the college site at the end of the day.

It wasn't like they were particularly eager students. Mainly, it was because one or more of them usually had detention, and so it was their number one goal to waste the teacher's time. That, or they had the ability to make conversation with anyone and everyone upon a glance.

Today, however, Levi was (to no surprise) resitting an exam, so Lottie had been kind enough to perhaps not mess with the teacher on this occasion. Instead, she waited outside the school gates, perched on the wall and idly scrolling through Instagram.

After 15 minutes or so, the giggling and excited chatting behind her signalled Domi's arrival.

"Took your time," Lottie teased, jumping off the wall and brushing off her skirt, before pocketing her phone. "Ooh, am I missing something?"

Pointedly, Lottie waved a finger at Domi and Jeanne's arms, interlinked tightly. She cocked an eyebrow, earning a snicker from Domi, and a blushing Jeanne beside her.

"No, not _yet_ ~" Domi purred.

"U-Uh, ok?" Jeanne said, unsure of what else to say.

Spinning on her heel, Domi took Lottie's arm in her other elbow. "Are you going anywhere?"

"Nope~" Lottie answered, a grin tugging at her lips.

The same grin was soon enough donning Domi's lips too. "Perfect. Fancy paying Lacie a visit?"

"Of course." Lottie was twirled around by Domi, who changed their direction on the spot. "Are we sure she's home? She might have fancied another trip to Westfield."

"She went there yesterday…" Jeanne pointed out.

Lottie snorted. "As if that would stop her. I'm guessing you spoke to Oswald, then?"

"Mhm," Domi hummed. She disconnected her arms from Lottie and Jeanne as they arrived at the convenience store, retrieving her purse from her jacket pocket. "Oswald said she's home. Now, who wants wine?"

"Not red," Jeanne interjected abruptly. "S-Sorry. I prefer white."

"No need to apologise~" Sure enough, Domi was back to flirting with Jeanne, as she dragged a finger along her jawline. "A woman only wants the best wine, after all."

"Get rosé." Lottie winked. "It's Lacie's favourite."

After nodding and proceeding into the shop, Domi returned within a couple of minutes, holding two bottles of wine – one rosé and one white. Once they were in her bag, she took their arms again, and whisked them off towards the good side of town.

Lacie and Oswald's house might have been close to the centre of town, but by no means did that make it small. Even from the outside, you could tell that the inhabitants were rich, and that the teens who lived there were downright spoilt.

Separating from the other two, Domi took no time hesitating as she rung the doorbell and knocked on the door obnoxiously.

There was a brief silence, before the sound of footsteps pattering against the wooden floorboards loudened, right up until the door swung open, to reveal Lacie. Her hair and make-up was fully done, and she wore tight, ripped denim jeans, a purple crop-top, and a black fleece, but despite her appearance to impress, the three knew she hadn't actually left the house.

"Expecting us?" Domi winked.

"I should have," Lacie smirked, glancing down at the screwdriver in her hand, spinning it skilfully, before placing it on the ledge beside the keys. "Come on. I'm guessing you brought booze."

"Would you expect less?" Lottie chimed, walking past the threshold and following Lacie into the living room.

Whilst Lacie flopped down onto the sofa like nothing was out of the ordinary, Domi, Jeanne, and Lottie all froze at the doorway.

"What you got there, Lacie?" Domi quipped, as she folded her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Oh, that." Casually, Lacie glanced across at the mountain of wires and metal and plastic and who-knows-what-else on the coffee table. "I took apart my laptop."

Lottie was the first to question it. "Why, exactly?"

"It wasn't working." Lacie shrugged. "I found the problem. But I got bored putting it back together."

Everyone knew that Lacie was probably the most intelligent of all of them, evidenced by the fact this wasn't the first time she'd successfully taken apart her laptop to fix it. Each time they came to visit her, she was up to something genius. But, despite that, she was still too lazy to go to college.

Yet another reason her teachers _despised_ her and her success.

"What'd you bring me then?" Lacie asked.

Domi sent Jeanne to the kitchen to get four glasses, before pulling out the two bottles of wine. "The classics~"

"Classy," Lacie snickered, "I would've been content with vodka, personally."

Lottie dropped onto the sofa beside Lacie. "Seconded."

"I have _class_ , my ladies~" Domi declared boldly.

Once Jeanne returned, Domi poured herself and Jeanne a glass of white, and Lottie and Lacie rosé. One thigh kicked up on Jeanne's lap, she joined them on the sofa, elegantly sipping the wine.

"So," Lacie paused mid-sentence as she took another gulp, "where is Oswald?"

"Waiting for Levi," Lottie answered, raking a hand through her hair. Out of everyone, she tended to know most about what was going on between everyone. "He had to retake a test."

Lacie cocked an eyebrow. "And you didn't?"

"Funny," Lottie deadpanned. She didn't sound too amused, but the others knew she wouldn't take it personally. "I did, but I couldn't be bothered."

"Mhm. And what about Ada?"

"Let me guess," Domi cut in, swirling the wine in her glass. "With Vincent again?"

"Yep," Lottie said.

"Ugh." Screwing her face up – blatantly disgusted – Lacie took another large gulp of rosé. "I hate Vincent. He spends a suspicious amount of time with Jack."

Confused, Domi shot her a quizzical look. "I've never seen them together."

"Sometimes they… meet after History," Jeanne pointed out. "But Vincent doesn't show up anymore. So um… I don't know if that's where he is."

"Probably is." The disapproving scowl remained on Lacie's face. "On the few occasions I've shown up, they're always buddying up in Computer Science."

"You ought to make an effort with him, you know," Domi said, her tone playful as always. "You're supposed to get along with your friends' partners, you know~"

"Funny you say that," Lacie grinned, nudging the girl beside her. "You never make an effort with Lottie's."

All eyes on her, Lottie surreptitiously sipped on the wine, and then laughed. "You think Levi is my only partner. How sweet."

"Oh, believe me, Lottie," Lacie refilled her glass, "we know there's _many_ others."

"Are you ever going to tell us about any of them?" Domi asked.

Lottie shrugged. "You'd only know a couple of them anyway. Besides, you've had _far_ more sexual partners than me, Domi. They were just all female."

"Of course!" Domi apparently took pride in that. "Who could resist these curves~?"

"Not Jeanne, obviously," Lacie gestured to the other, only exacerbating the blush already spread across her face.

"M-Maybe less so if you weren't sort of…" Jeanne shifted, "…sitting on me?"

"You love me really," Domi grinned.

"Get a room, ladies." Lacie rolled her eyes. "Film, anyone? Levi will invite himself around here once he's done, and Oswald will hardly say no."

"How about a romantic comedy?" Lottie proposed.

Domi quipped from the end of the sofa, "A graphic one, perhaps?"

"You know my parents still track this thing, right?" Lacie narrowed her eyes at her, before shaking it off with a chuckle. "We're not watching lesbian porn on my TV."

"Check Netflix," Lottie said, "Just don't put on anything that'll get Domi turned on, or you ranting about Jack."

Lacie chuckled again. "When Domi is permanently horny and I _really_ hate Jack, that'll be easier said than done, my friend."

* * *

Before he even pulled his keys out, Leo knew he was in for trouble.

He hated having a foster sister. He hated _her_. She was bossy, uptight, and seemed to think she had some sort of authority over him, despite being two years _younger_.

Leo had grown up with his parents, until he was 12, when his mother and father were killed in a car crash. It was an extremely rough period in his life, yet with some miracle, he was taken into foster care almost immediately, and had been there since. With that, however, came six foster siblings which he automatically become responsible for.

Most of them were young; they didn't hassle Leo. But, as said before, his oldest foster sibling who'd been there since she was 8 – still younger than him – was a _pain in the ass_.

Like almost every day, he was arriving home late, having done nothing he was told to do. Yes, she asked him to collect their siblings from their carer, but the way Leo saw it, that wasn't really his top priority.

Bracing himself, he unlocked the front door.

Before she saw him, Leo caught a glimpse of her, standing at the kitchen counter, and unpacking the shopping. Part of him wanted to slip upstairs without her knowing, but the brand-new pack of cigarettes awaiting him in his pocket urged him otherwise.

Pointedly dropping his bag on the chair beside the door, Leo traipsed into the kitchen without a single word.

It fact, it took him until the sink before she noticed.

When she did, she sounded pissed. "Leo."

" _Florence_ ," he replied mockingly. Slowly, he poured a glass of water and sipped it, a teasing smirk twitching at his lips behind the glass.

"Don't call me that!" Flo retorted, slamming the fridge door shut. "Where the hell are the others?"

"Hm…" Leo hummed. He slid the door to the garden open wordlessly, placing the glass on the table a couple of feet from the door. Then, the pack of cigarettes in his hand, he took pleasure in watching her glare at him as he slid one out, stuck it between his lips, and lit it. Dragging on the cigarette, instantly feeling the relief from the flood of nicotine, he said defensively, "What?"

"You didn't answer my question!" Flo yelled, "Where the fuck are our siblings, Leo?"

"Was I supposed to collect them?" Leo said, as he inhaled on the cigarette again, and turned his head to exhale away from the house. She was already pissing him off.

"Yes! We said that _this morning_! Where the hell were you?"

"Picking up some stuff." Leo waved the cigarette at her matter-of-factly. (That wasn't all he bought, but she really didn't need to know that.)

Flo scoffed. "Tch, that's a disgusting habit you've got there," she said, "and go and pick our siblings up, fucking hell!"

"Do I look like I give a shit?" Leo said bluntly. "No. You go do it."

"No way!" He could tell Flo didn't _want_ to raise her voice, but she always lost her temper before he did. "I've done it everyday this week! At least pull your weight a little bit!"

Leo was quickly losing his cool too, and the cigarette dangling between his fingers was hardly doing much to help that. "I have four subjects, alright? I have a shit ton of work to do, so get _off_ my case! Jeez, you sound like Elliot."

"Well of _course_." Flo's words turned bitterly sarcastic. "If you don't listen to your boyfriend, why the fuck would you listen to me?!"

"That's irrelevant."

"You can't talk about workload anyway! I have a _job,_ unlike _you_ , _and_ I'm a year younger!" Flo said, kicking closed the kitchen cupboard after placing the last bit of shopping away. "Besides, you're not even doing work! You're just smoking those cancer sticks!"

 _That_ crossed the line.

Without a second to broad over his actions, Leo wrapped his fingers around the glass beside him, and launched it at Flo. She dodged, and it narrowly missed, instead crumbling against the granite counter with an audible _smash_ and spilling into a mess of water and broken glass on the kitchen tiles.

"What the fuck?!" Flo shrieked, wide eyed and staring down at the shards of glass.

When he saw the tears in her eyes, Leo admittedly felt a little guilty. Whenever they rowed like this, he knew it reminded her of how she used to live with relatives from the UK, who'd argue and argue non-stop.

"Flo, look-"

"No, fuck you! I don't want to hear your shitty excuses for being such a deadbeat brother!" she screamed, grabbing her keys from the counter and glaring daggers at him. "You're the oldest, Leo! Y-You're meant to set an example for us! But _no_! Instead you're _selfish_! Mum needs your _help_ , but you just… don't care?! I've already done all the shopping for today – _you_ were meant to do that too, you know! I can't run around doing everything for you forever!"

By the time Flo finished shouting at him at the top of her lungs, she was breathless; panting and teary-eyed. One single tear crept down her cheek, but she wiped it away immediately.

Frustrated and guilty, Leo dragged deeply on the cigarette, before sighing, and pulling her eyes to his. "Look, I'll… pick them up tomorrow. But I really do have work to do today."

"Fine," she spat, spinning on her heel and storming towards the front door. "You useless piece of _shit_."

Leo, dropping the cigarette by his foot, wasted no time in grabbing another glass from the sink, and throwing it at Flo. Once again, she dodged, flipping him off as it collided with the door frame.

Not once did she lock eyes with him when she swung open the door, and slammed it shut on him.

" _Shit_ ," Leo hissed, feeling every ounce of anger build and build. Folding his arms over his chest, he collapsed back against the wall.

He didn't _mean_ to make her upset like that. But this was nothing new. Every exchange between them – be it alone or with their mum – ended the exact same way: Flo storming off, and Leo finding an excuse to leave, and smoke, usually.

With an audible huff, he dug a hand into his pocket again, and pulled out another cigarette, still craving the nicotine to calm him down. The cigarette between his lips, Leo lifted the lighter up to it, and inhaled, before pulling the stick away from his lips along with a stream of smoke.

Staring down at the cigarette, he couldn't stop the guilt from his and Flo's argument taking over his conscience. After another drag of smoke, Leo pulled out his phone, and messaged the one person he always went to.

 **[Tumblr]** ** _hell-is-empty:_** _got into another fight with my foster sister  
_ _ **hell-is-empty:**_ _feel like shit_

Within half a minute, the reply came through.

 **[Tumblr]** ** _allthatglittersaintgoldsweetie:_** _talk to me_


	4. Chapter 4

**_(A/Ns: wow is this? really me? like it's been LESS THAN TWO WEEKS since i last updated? ANYWAY this chapter is where the real plot point begin. there's certain subjects which i will try my best to convey, and i will try to be 100% respectful. please please PLEASE pay attention to the content warnings! i literally cba to deal with drama so if you leave me hate then expect to be deleted :)_**  
 ** _BUT im sure youre all lovely so i have nothing to worry about right? :))_**  
 ** _content warnings: domestic abuse, brief suicidal thoughts, smoking, violence, child abuse, physical and verbal abuse, recreational drug use, mentions/some vague-ish descriptions of dysphoria, mentions of parental death._**  
 ** _enjoy! :3_**

 ** _disclaimer: i do not own Pandora Hearts or Vanitas no Carte)_**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

"How was your day, Ada?"

From across the dinner table, Ada smiled at her father, picking up the knife again and cutting through her food. "It was good! I stayed behind with my History teacher to go through my most recent assessment. She says it looks really promising!"

"Impressive," Xai – their father – commented, responding with a fleeting smile. A second later, his expression returned to its usual stern nature, as he redirected his gaze to Oz. "And you?"

Shifting the food around his plate with the fork, Oz kept his head locked downwards. "Good."

Oz didn't want to steal the attention from Ada.

Ada was evidently the favourite child. She was only two months older than Oz, the two having different mothers. Oz's mother died at birth, whilst Ada's mother had divorced Xai after finding out about the other women. What exactly had happened around the siblings' birth, Oz had never known. He just knew he was the unwanted child.

There were a lot of unanswered questions in that house, but of everything, the one thing Oz knew for certain was that _Ada was the favourite child_.

Despite being older, though, Ada had always looked up to Oz.

Idle chatter continued amongst the three for the rest of dinner, until they had all finished, and the conversation came to a natural end. The silence made Oz's heart sink, nausea stirring in his stomach; Friday evenings were always the worst, because he couldn't go anywhere once the usual was over.

"Would you like any help clearing up?" Ada offered, placing her knife and fork together in the centre of the plate.

"That's very kind of you, Ada," Xai smiled. "But I'm sure we will be okay. Haven't you got work to do?"

"Well… yeah, I guess." Ada shot a fleeting glance to Oz in her peripheral vision, which was promptly dismissed. "I was… going to head out later, i-if that's okay…"

"Of course," Xai said, "Be back before midnight, as usual."

"Okay, well… thank you!" she beamed, standing up and tucking her chair under the table. Once again, she shot a sidelong glance to Oz. "If I don't see you before I leave, uh, goodnight!"

"Goodnight, Ada," Oz said, his words quiet. He smiled, albeit faintly, before she spun on her heel, and his smile faded.

Silence lingered once it was only him and Xai, left in the room, alone.

The tension was thick. The air felt heavy. So heavy, Oz felt himself holding his breath. His hand lay across his stomach, clutching his other arm, forming something like a shield. And his eyes stayed fixed to the floor.

Yet still, it was silent.

"Oz." Xai's tone was cold, bitter, and blunt. "Take these plates to the sink."

Oz immediately stood up, gathered the plates, and shuffled to the sink, not daring to make a single sound.

"We need to talk about your grades."

His blood ran cold.

This discussion was inevitable. Their mock results had been sent home, no exceptions. There was no chance his father hadn't seen them.

"What about them?" Oz asked, feigning cluelessness, but the tremor in his voice was far too prominent. As he placed the plates in the sink, he tried desperately not to make a sound, before pinning his hands at his sides so they _stopped shaking_.

"They're not good enough." Xai spoke with venom and distaste thick in his words. "You chose to take four subjects. I don't expect you to be getting _adequate_ grades."

Oz swallowed, his breath catching in his throat. "Sorry, I-"

"Be quiet," Xai snapped, as he rose to his feet and lifted a hand to halt him. "If you don't attain the grades you need for university, I will not pay for your accommodation. I will not _allow_ you to live under _my_ roof, either. You will be alone in the world."

"I-I'm sorry," was all Oz could stammer, subconsciously tugging on the sleeves of his jumper.

"You're lucky I am even letting you stay here." The sound of Xai's footsteps, stomping across the floor, made Oz's heart thump even harder. "You are 18 now. I have no reason to keep you here, unless you make a difference in this world. And without satisfactory grades, you will do nothing."

"Y-Yes f-"

"Look at me when I am speaking to you!"

Oz's mouth dropped open to answer, but before he could make a single sound or even crack a whimper, his father grabbed his wrist. His fingers, curling inwards, dug deeply into his wrist, at which he flinched, and hissed internally.

Silence ensued once again. It was deafeningly loud, however; Oz could hear every breath, every beat of his heart. Besides that, though, he'd completely frozen, his eyes locked on his father. His father, whose cold glare was solidly fixed on Oz.

After a minute of no response, he raised a hand.

Oz was too used to this by now.

It was only one hit, but it _hurt_. Physically, the skin on his face was burning; pulsating. Emotionally, the pain was on an entirely different level.

Inhale. Exhale.

It'd be over soon, right?

The next thing which pulled Oz from his trance was the smash of glass.

"Clean this up." Xai promptly gestured to the shards of glass, spread over the linoleum floor. "And finish the washing up. Then, go up to your room immediately. If you disturb me-" he looked him dead in the eyes, "- I think you know what to expect."

Swallowing down the rising nausea and tightness in his throat, Oz nodded. Tears spilled over his eyelids, in both fear and pain.

"Don't be pathetic," his father spat, before turning towards the door and slamming it shut behind him. The sound reverberated around the room, but the beating in the blonde's ears was too loud for him to register anything else.

Without another sound, tears streaming down his face, Oz did exactly as he was told, cleaning up the glass from the floor whilst trying to settle the nauseating rolling in his stomach.

He shouldn't have felt like this.

This was a regular Friday evening, after all.

* * *

To some people, Friday nights simply weren't for staying in.

And to Lottie and Domi, Friday nights were created for the sole purpose of going out, partying, and getting drunk.

As per usual, Domi was at Lottie's, the two having been getting ready for over an hour. So far, they'd each fully done their make-up, and had successfully gossiped about almost every single person in their college.

Right now, Lottie was sat at her dressing table, precisely and carefully painting her nails as Domi stood behind her, curling her hair.

"Do you know if Ada's coming?" Domi questioned, fiddling with section of Lottie's hair. "If I'm guessing, unlikely."

"You'd be right," Lottie sighed, "She told us she had to work, but let's be honest here, we all know this is the night she sneaks out to see Vincent."

"Shame. I have to say, Ada is fun to be around."

"Particularly for Vincent, I'd say," Lottie snickered, placing the nail varnish bottle aside and flexing her fingers. "He'll be all over her, and she won't say no."

"Hm…" Domi narrowed her eyes, as she turned off the hair curler. "Lacie's right, though. I don't like Vincent."

"He's a psychopath, I'll admit," Lottie shrugged, before standing up and shrugging off the dressing gown. "He's useful in some ways."

Domi, stepping to the side, also ridded herself of her (Lottie's, actually) dressing gown, leaving the two both in their lingerie. "You only say that because you've slept with him."

"Not whilst he was dating Ada," Lottie said, cocking an eyebrow. "What do you take me for?"

"A whore," Domi shrugged, and then giggled, wrapping an arm around the other's shoulders. "I'm joking, of course. I love you really."

Lottie grinned. "I know you do. Now, what are wearing?"

"You'll no doubt let me _borrow_ your clothes." Detaching herself from the other, Domi proceeded to the wardrobe, flinging the doors open. "Let's see what we've got."

The process of choosing what to wear was a lengthy one at best. They each wore the same size, so always shared clothes with no fuss. Besides, Lottie seemed to have an endless supply to all the best brands, and Domi could hardly _not_ take advantage of that.

It took twenty minutes and a pile of rejects for the two to come to a decision. Domi went with a black, body-con, halter neck mini dress with silver heels, and Lottie ended up with a tight, provocatively short black mini skirt, along with a pink crop top and matching pink stiletto heels.

"You look gorgeous, as always~" Domi winked, as she unplugged her phone and placed it into her bag. A devious grin tugging at her lips, she froze. Slyly, she unzipped the secret compartment of the clutch page, her fingers wrapping around a small transparent bag of white powder. "Fancy a hit? You know, to _really_ start the evening."

"Was spending an hour and a half getting ready not a good enough start for you?" Lottie titled her head at the other, snickering, as she stepped into her shoes and added three inches to her height.

"Is it really the same as drugs, my dear friend?" Domi took another step closer to Lottie, and flung an arm around her shoulders.

Delicately, Lottie wrapped a hand around Domi's wrist, embracing the hug. She sighed, her head lulling downwards slightly. "If you insist… I'll have to politely decline."

Domi, her face a picture of shock, retracted from Lottie instantly, continuing to gape at her like the world had ended. "Do my eyes deceive me?"

Without a word, Lottie shrugged.

"… Are you _seriously_ declining _coke_?"

"If you _must_ know, I felt a little rough last night. And this morning." Lottie's emotionless expression was soon converted to a devilish smirk, matching Domi's perfectly. "Believe me, though: next time."

"I'll be counting on it." Reluctantly, Domi slipped the bag back into its place in her purse. "Ahhh, maybe I can pressure Jeanne into it?"

Laughing, Lottie knew to just shake it off. "You do you, Domi."

"Perfume, lastly." Domi strode back over to the dressing table, fingers brushing over the countless bottles of expensive perfumes, all different shapes and sizes and colours. The grin fixed to her lips widened, as she picked up a small pink bottle, turning to Lottie. "Do you think Jeanne will like the playboy one?"

"Considering she's a lesbian, probably not," Lottie snickered, heading over to where Domi stood and selecting the first bottle she laid eyes on. "You really want her to notice you, don't you?"

"Ah, Lottie, you _must_ have wanted to get in her pants before."

"I don't exactly swing that way. But I can see why you _do_."

"Exactly."

"She's already fallen for you, Domi," Lottie insisted. She rolled her eyes, and doused her arms and neck in perfume. "What more do you want?"

Once Domi finally settled for one of Lottie's _Chanel_ perfumes, she answered. "I want her to pine for me."

"Needy," Lottie snorted. "Already, are you ready to go?"

"Of course. When wouldn't I be?"

It may have only been 8pm, but when you were rich and spoilt, getting pre-drinks at a bar was really no big deal.

For them, Friday night would only _now_ begin.

* * *

It wasn't a very big secret that Flo's home life wasn't the best.

All her friends (read: Roland, and Noé, and some person called Vanitas who she _definitely_ wouldn't consider a friend) knew that she'd been in foster home since she was 8. They all knew she had an older brother whom she hated. They all knew she was constantly weighed down by running errands for her siblings and her mother.

They also knew she'd had a – to put it bluntly – shitty past, her parents having died when she was young, leaving her stuck with relatives until they finally let her go somewhere else. Her foster mother was one of the nicest people in existence, but the situation with her brother always cancelled that out. And despite knowing about his existence, her friends didn't actually know it was _Leo_.

That was probably for the best. Flo knew she'd told some pretty awful stores about him.

It was currently half eight, the family only now eating dinner. At one end of the table, their younger siblings bickered and laughed and threw food around – nothing too unusual – which their foster mother tried to settle them.

At the _other_ end of the table sat Flo and Leo, opposite each other, in total silence. Leo's attention was split between aimlessly picking at his food and texting underneath the table, whist Flo was multitasking with actually eating and glaring at Leo across the table.

Sure enough, Flo wasn't the only one to notice he wasn't eating.

"Leo?" their foster mother asked, tilting her head slightly. "Are you not going to eat anything?"

For a few seconds, Leo didn't respond, and the table fell silent. Then, with an obnoxious roll of the eyes, he dropped the knife and fork on the plate, shoved it backwards, and stood up from the table abruptly. "I'm not hungry."

She sighed. "Leo, can we please-"

"No," he cut her off before she could finish, kicking the chair under the table and storming off to upstairs.

The kids were stunned into silence.

"Flo, would you mind checking on him?" she asked, concern evident in her words.

"What?! No!" Flo tried to refuse, but the soft sadness behind her mother's gaze was enough to convince her otherwise. "Fine. But if he gets annoyed at me, I'm leaving."

"Yes, okay. Come back down when you're done."

Rolling her eyes behind her fringe, Flo reluctantly stood up and followed Leo up the stairs.

They'd never been close. Neither of them ever felt like they could reach out to each other. Whenever Flo _tried_ to reach out to Leo, she was met with a wall. And there was no reason for now to be any different.

Unsurprisingly, when she arrived, Leo's bedroom door was locked. Knocking would've been pointless, so without making any sound beforehand, Flo let herself in his room.

"Did mum send you here?" Leo muttered, his head turned down to his desk as he picked up the pack of cigarettes and pocketed them.

"No," Flo lied, quite obviously. "Alright, yes. She did."

"Knew it," he grunted, slipping his jacket on and stepping into the torn-up pair of trainers underneath the bed. "What do you want?"

"Where are you going?" Flo interrogated. When Leo didn't respond, she took the hint, closing the door behind her and folding her arms over her chest. "Well?"

"Just to the park. To smoke, cool down for a bit," Leo said quietly, pulling out his phone and typing something out. "You're always the one telling me I shouldn't smoke in front of our siblings."

Flo scoffed. "You weren't going to anyway. Our mother would shred you alive."

"She doesn't need to know, either." Leo rolled his eyes. "So keep your mouth shut and stop poking into my business."

A brief moment of silence dominated.

"There's something not right about you," she said, her words softening at her next comment. "Tch, you _do_ know you can talk to me about it, right?"

"No, I can't. And I could say the same thing back at _you_."

Flo couldn't bring herself to retort. There _was_ nothing she could say – nothing that wouldn't be hypocritical, at least.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments, Flo kicked up against the door whilst Leo stood, without a word, in the centre of his room, tapping his phone against the palm of his hand.

Biting his lower lip, he eventually asked, "Can I borrow ten quid?"

"No fucking way," Flo instantly refused. It wasn't a decision which needed too much deliberation considering the last time Leo had paid her back for _anything_ was _never_.

"Please?"

"No! You never pay me back!"

"Five, then. And I swear this time I will."

"There is literally no reason for me to trust any of what you're saying," Flo deadpanned.

"Look, if you lend me the money, I'll take the kids to their Saturday school tomorrow."

Once again, there was no reason for Flo to believe him, but the look of almost desperation in his eyes was enough to convince her. Reluctantly, she shoved a hand into her pocket, sifting through the cash folded inside her phone case.

The moment she extended the five-pound note to Leo, he took it, grinning at her (albeit teasingly). "Thanks, _sis_."

Her mouth dropped open to protest, and interrogate, but Leo was already gone, clambering out of the window without a second to look back. She cringed, internally – hearing _"sis"_ always bugged her.

When she returned to the dining room, Flo found herself lying through her teeth to cover for him. "He's okay. He's just… doing work."

"Alright." Their mother smiled weakly.

The rest of dinner proceeded in silence. After her confrontation with Leo, Flo couldn't bring herself to find her appetite again, finishing half of the plate before excusing herself to upstairs.

Once she was alone, in her room, she exhaled a sigh of relief. For some reason, she always felt like she was holding her breath around… well, her entire family. She locked her door, pulled out her phone, and dropped down onto her bed, stretching out on her front.

Having Tumblr wasn't something Flo _had_ ever or _would_ ever admit to her friends. Everyone knew that there was a " _certain type"_ of person who had Tumblr, and Flo didn't want to be _that_ person.

Nonetheless, in a way, inside her head in this other world online, she was.

The first things she'd always scroll through was memes. It was a small thing, but chuckling internally at stupid things and mindlessly hitting the reblog button always proved relaxing, for whatever reason.

It only took a minute, however, for Flo to reach the posts from the blogs which she always _regretted_ following.

The post was titled _"You don't need crippling self-hate to be trans!",_ and it was _long_. Flo couldn't bring herself to read it all; partly because she was lazy, but mostly because it was… uncomfortable. Something always bugged her when reading stuff like that. Something weirdly foreign yet annoyingly familiar.

 _Familiar…_

That thought was only given two seconds to cross her mind, before she instantly closed the tab and threw her phone across the bed.

Something didn't leave her alone, though.

Something just didn't feel _right_.

 _It_ was incessant, and repetitive, but every time any kind of suspicion or inkling that there was a slight, miniscule thought that this was _somehow_ linked to dysphoria, Flo shut down her train of thoughts, and dumped her head in her arms.

Her breaths were steady, but deep. A tightness rose in her chest, as she wriggled slightly; moving her front against the mattress was an irrefutably _wrong_ sensation. It was a sense of disassociation, like her thoughts and body didn't quite match, and this body she was stuck in wasn't _meant_ to be hers.

Discomfort might have described it best, but no words could _truly_ convey it.

She didn't want it to be true – dysphoria was a real thing, and she was probably just being dramatic. Something about it, however, felt almost _too_ true.

But instead of pondering over _those_ feelings, Flo repressed them, and thought about something boring like school work until _finally_ , they left her alone, and the tears prickling at her eyes ceased.

Now simply wasn't the right time to confront _it_.

Having said that, for the rest of that evening, right until she passed out on her desk, the thought never _really_ left.

* * *

Having only just passed midnight, Noé was only _now_ beginning to appreciate how _quiet_ this house was when Domi was out.

Usually, Domi took the house for herself. Their grandfather allowed either of them to have whoever they wanted over, and that didn't stop at house parties. So, most of the time, Noé was confined to his room.

Not that he minded, or anything.

Tonight, however, Domi was out. And if she wasn't, she would've _never_ let Vanitas into their house.

Currently, the two were in the lounge, the lights dimmed and the TV playing, but neither of them were watching it. Instead, Vanitas' head was laid on Noé's legs, which were kicked up onto the sofa.

It was peaceful, but the unspoken words seemed to linger.

Noé wanted so desperately to ask if he was okay.

He couldn't, though. Vanitas never took personal discussions well. He was closed off, and in their three-year relationship, Noé had learnt that best.

It hadn't always been like this. The pair had first met when they were only 11, and had been what most people considered _"best friends"_ since they were 12. Sure, Vanitas had always been one to keep things to himself, but at the very least, he trusted Noé. That, unfortunately, didn't seem to be the case anything, and the façade of _"a good, admirable couple"_ grew harder and harder to uphold.

Gently, Noé's fingers slipped through Vanitas' hair, softly sifting through the uneven layers in an attempt to ignore the feeling that _something wasn't right._ Vanitas didn't even flinch, his attention remaining fixed on his phone.

Noé couldn't even see what he was doing. He respected every part of Vanitas' privacy, obviously, but things always felt so cut off. Particularly as of late, when they continued growing more and more distant, until Noé didn't actually know what they _were_ anymore.

But to maintain their functioning relationship, he kept his mouth shut. It wasn't worth arguing; Vanitas saw no value in apologies, so it was a dead end each time.

The silence proceeded for another half an hour.

And Noé couldn't bite his tongue forever.

"Vanitas," he said, his words forgiving, but woven with concern. Right before he spoke, he switched to French – maybe it'd re-establish the connection they once had. " _Vanitas, je veux que tu saches que si quelque chose ne va pas, tu peux m'en parler._ "

When Noé earned nothing in response, he assumed Vanitas didn't understand him.

"Vanitas?"

With a heavy, exhausted, worn-out and fed-up sigh, Vanitas pocketed his phone. "Sweet-talking to me in French won't work, Noé."

The lack of proper response was disappointing. What was even more disappointing was when Vanitas pulled out the tobacco and rolling paper from his pocket, and began rolling a cigarette.

"Come on, Vanitas. Let's not do this again." Noé tried to softly push him. He felt himself trying to push a brick wall, however, he persevered. "We need to talk. For real this time."

"I don't want to talk about this now," Vanitas said, bluntly, as he raised the cigarette to his lips to seal it.

Noé exhaled, knowing full-well he'd dug himself a hole already. "You know Domi is out, right? She won't be able to hear you."

Sulkily, Vanitas fiddled with the cigarette between his fingers. His words were barely audible. "It's not that."

" _Est-ce que c'est parce que mon grand-père est à la maison_?"

Vanitas frowned. It evidently took him a few seconds to decipher what Noé had even said. Then, he muttered, " _Non. Je veux pas en parler_."

Noé's heart sank. Of _course_ he'd say he _just didn't want to talk_.

Just as Vanitas pulled out his light and sat up, blatantly showing he was done here, his phone vibrated, seemingly grabbing his attention.

"Who's that?" Noé, admittedly, let the question slip _before_ he evaluated why he shouldn't have asked it.

"Doesn't matter," Vanitas murmured, sticking the cigarette between his lips as he headed for the backdoor.

Once again, a bitter silence filled the room.

Noé soon found himself unable to tear his eyes from the door, which promptly slammed shut, almost reinforcing the wall between them, just to rub it in.

There was something wrong, beyond his control. It was pulling them apart, bit by bit, until they could not longer be in the same room without _something_ kicking off.

And yet, for whatever reason, Noé could not for the _life_ of him place a finger on what it was.

* * *

 ** _TRANSLATIONS (thanks to nualie once again!)_**  
 _"Vanitas, je veux que tu saches que si quelque chose ne va pas, tu peux m'en parler." = "Vanitas, I want you to know that if there's anything wrong, you can talk to me about it."_  
 _"Est-ce que c'est parce que mon grand-père est à la maison?" = "Is this because my grandfather is home?"_  
 _"No. I just don't want to talk about it." = "Non. Je veux pas en parler."_


	5. Chapter 5

**_(A/Ns: watch me updating in like 2 weeks again. uuuh gonna upload quickly cuz i should be revising right now lol._**

 ** _content warnings: swearing, smoking, references to drug addiction, mentions of family death, mentions of therapy etc._**

 ** _disclaimer: i do not own pandora hearts or vanitas no carte)_**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

"Reim. Are you going to the canteen?"

When he first heard Sharon call his name, from a few feet behind him, Reim jolted.

Freezing in his tracks, despite the crowd, he turned around briefly, locking eyes on Sharon as she walked up beside him. Wordlessly, she reached out, and intertwined their fingers; Reim never used to be one for public display of affection, but Sharon had eventually gotten him past that.

"Yeah," Reim said, glancing around as they reached the canteen. A disappointed look spreading across his face, he turned back to Sharon. "Do you know where everyone is?"

"Oz will be somewhere with Alice, most likely. Elliot and Leo are always late. And today is the day Gilbert finishes third and doesn't come back until sixth." The way her words lingered suggested she wasn't done speaking. And sure enough, she wasn't, as she shifted slightly when they sat down, before asking, "Have you seen Break yet today?"

Reim, unconfident in his words, replied, "I can't be sure, but I believe I saw him coming in earlier."

"Strange," Sharon commented under her breath, shuffling closer to Reim and pulling out her lunch. "On another note, I got another offer for Medicine."

"That's great!" Reim congratulated her with a kiss on the cheek, beaming widely. "Where for?"

"King's College London, AAAA. Obviously, Cambridge is still the front-runner."

"Yes, yes, of course. It's Cambridge, after all."

The two continued to engage in idle chatter about university offers, until Break arrived.

…Break usually carried himself lazily, to be blunt, but _this_ was something else. First of all, his attention seemed focus on nothing except his phone, both earphones plugged into his hair, stealing the other part of his attention. On his way over to Sharon and Reim, he didn't glance up once, pushing past everyone in his path. And when he finally sat down, without uttering a single word, the tense, irascible aura radiating from his mere presence instantly put a halt to Sharon and Reim's conversation.

"Good afternoon," Reim greeted, partially jokingly, but his furrowed eyebrows said quite clearly that he wasn't overly impressed with Break's demeanour.

When he earned no response, his frown deepened, before he reached over, and yanked one of the headphones out of his ear.

Break froze, reluctantly pulling the other earphone out, then pocketing them and glancing up. The smile he sent towards Reim was bitter, and bluntly forced. It was fleeting, too, and a moment later, Break's attention reverted to his phone, as his hair fell over his face and shielded him to the prying eyes of Sharon and Reim.

Rather pointedly, as if to intentionally annoy him, Sharon said, "I believe he is in a bad mood."

"No idea how you came to that conclusion," Reim replied, sarcasm woven deeply into his words. "He seems… hungover. Weird for a Tuesday."

"Ah, you hit the nail right on the head…" Break muttered, fiddling with his septum ring for a moment. He spoke passively aggressively, almost as if he was _annoyed_ that Reim had figured him out.

"Where did you go?" Reim confronted, "You weren't at break."

"Shops," Break's answer was incredibly brief, and the bluntness embedded in his tone suggested it was a closed off statement for a _reason_.

Reim, scanning him over again, only appeared confused. "But… you have no food?"

"Hm…" Break hummed, his undivided attention still devoted to his phone. "No."

It only took one concerned glance to the other for Sharon to take over the conversation.

"Break, we talked about this."

The initial silence suggested Break knew exactly what she was referring to. "I've already eaten," he said. He wasn't a good liar.

And, of course, Reim knew that. "You're lying. Here, I'll share my food."

"Hm… you see, you've got chicken and rice, and I've been thinking about going vegetarian lately~" Break quipped. His 180 personality flips would always confuse Reim and Sharon.

"I swear, I can never keep up with you…" Reim sighed, faceplanting. At this point, he'd nearly given out. Break clearly knew him and Sharon were hinting at a serious upcoming conversation, and evidently, he wanted to do his very best to postpone that _discussion._

"Ahh, neither can I, really," Break grinned, finally putting his phone away. Silence took over the three for no more than thirty seconds, before Break abruptly picked up his bag again, flung it over his shoulder, and prepared to stand up. "Anyway, I'm off to the bathroom."

"Sit down," Sharon instructed, and sheepishly, Break actually _obeyed,_ sticking his hands in the pockets of his third oversized jacket. "We need to talk."

Ah. There it was. _That talk._

Which, after a prompting glance fell on him, Reim quickly concluded was apparently up to _him_ to initiate; trust Sharon to drop that on him.

"I-I don't want to intrude, o-or anything…" he started hesitantly, "But you seem distant. I'm not imagining this, Xerx. I know you better than anyone. I've seen you at your worst. And I'm… _we're_ just worried that… you're going back there."

"You needn't worry. I'm not doing anything suspicious." Break brushed it off with a smile immediately. There may have been a fleeting, second-lasting look of guilt, but neither of them saw it for long enough to be sure. "You see, I _may_ or may not have Physics work due in, you know, _next period._ "

"Right…" Reim wasn't buying it, but before he could stop the other this time, there was a light squeeze on his wrist from Sharon, telling him not to push it. So, against his will, he bit down the urge to call after Break, and simply stopped talking.

"He'll be fine," Sharon reassured, her words soft. "He's stronger than you think. Although I have to say, I do wonder why on _earth_ he took Physics without Maths when it's evident that's what he struggles most with."

"No idea," Reim shrugged. "I just… sorry, I really hope he's okay."

The smile from Sharon was, once again, enough to diminish any momentary fears. "We all do, Reim."

* * *

Elliot would always wonder how he could lose Leo at college _so damn much…_ when they were in _all the same classes._

To no surprise, today was no exception, as he wandered from his period five lesson of Biology to the final lesson of the day: Literature, questioning to himself how the _hell_ Leo slipped away. He was sure Leo would magically appear again now, though; Leo would never miss Literature. (Well, he often did, but Elliot tried to ignore that minor fact.)

Sure enough, sitting right there in his normal spot, at the side of the room beside the window, was Leo. The oh-so-innocent expression riled Elliot up further, as he stormed over to him and dropped down into his seat.

Leo's mouth dropped open to greet Elliot, accompanied by a snarky grin implying he wanted to make a snarky comment. But, before he could, Elliot fired his interrogation at him in the usual not-so-clandestine shout-whisper. "Where the hell were you in Biology?! We had a test!"

"Precisely." Leo lifted his pen matter-of-factly.

Elliot raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I've missed too many lessons this half term, and I need to cram the content before I can sit the test. So, I skipped it."

"Why don't you tell me about these things?" Elliot sighed, rolling his eyes internally to mask the fact he felt let down, in a way. He wanted Leo to trust him, but evidently, he didn't, and that hurt a little, to tell the truth. "You know, instead of just sneaking off."

Leo, averting his gaze to the blank notepad in front of him, shrugged. "You would've kicked up a fuss. I didn't want you telling our teacher where I was."

"What?" Elliot scoffed. "So I get to say _'oh yeah, sorry, but I don't know where my boyfriend is'_ like a total idiot?"

Once again, Leo shrugged dismissively. "At least she's not expecting an A* from _you_."

"I'm your _boyfriend,_ Leo," Elliot said, turning the other way as he lowered his voice. His words brought a blush to his face, but that was only followed by frustration at the lack of response from Leo. "I'm not gonna rat you out, jeez."

"Alright, whatever," Leo hummed, fiddling with the pen in his hand, waiting impatiently for their teacher to arrive.

As the two continued to wait in silence, Elliot eventually mustered up the courage to turn back around to Leo, idly scanning the room before furrowing his eyebrows. For some reason, the usual background smell of stale cigarettes seemed stronger than usual.

"Have you been smoking?" he said, pointedly sniffing as the question rolled off his tongue before he could consider the fact the sudden confrontation might not have been the best idea ever. Especially not when Leo already seemed aggravated by him for some reason.

Blinking, Leo slowly turned to Elliot, shooting him a perplexed, momentary glance. "Don't you think you'd have noticed by this point if I smoked?"

"Well…" _Valid point_ , Elliot reluctantly thought to himself, accepting it must be someone else. "Yeah, I guess."

Shortly after that, thankfully before the lingering awkwardness could last for too much longer, their teacher arrived, dropping her bag onto her desk and issuing a brief apology for being late.

When she pulled out a stack of test papers – _marked_ test papers – Elliot's heart sank.

"I've marked your latest test," she said, beginning to hand out people's respective tests. "I'm impressed, I have to say. For most of you, I'm positive you'll get the same grades as we've predicted on your UCAS applications when you sit your actual A Levels. As usual, swap papers with the person next to you, read through theirs, and pick out the same things we usually look for: things worded well, interesting concepts, contextual links, and perhaps things not worded so well."

Coincidentally, Elliot and Leo were the last to receive their tests back, the teacher sliding theirs onto the desk. Then, she flashed a smile, and crossed glances with Leo. "Can I speak to you outside a moment?"

"Sure," Leo said, although Elliot knew he was reluctantly following her. Right before he left, however, he stopped, grinning at his paper as he nudged it towards Elliot. "Have fun reading."

Scowling, Elliot picked up Leo's paper.

 _94%_

 _Of course…_

Leo always did better than him. Elliot was, to no surprise, a straight A student. He was predicted four As, which was beyond enough to get him into any Russell Group university. But that wasn't quite enough for him; not when Leo was a straight A* student. There was absolutely no reason for them to compete when it came to grades, but Elliot couldn't bring himself not to feel a slight inferiority complex when he compared his 76% to Leo's 94%.

Reading through it didn't make him feel any better. If you looked past the borderline illegible handwriting, which Elliot had gradually learnt to decipher with ease over the years, everything was flawless. The wording was concise yet intricate, and every paragraph was perfectly structured to the point where he was practically laying out the marks for the examiner.

Elliot was jealous. He knew that. He couldn't even _try_ to deny it.

When Leo returned, his irascible aura seemed exacerbated, and Elliot could tell he was even more on-edge than he was when he was taken out.

"What was it about?" Elliot questioned, squinting briefly at the paper in his hands.

"Doesn't matter," Leo answered, as vaguely as possible. One elbow leant against the table, wordlessly, he picked up Elliot's paper, and began reading. Naturally, his fringe fell over his eyes like curtains, telling the world quite bluntly that he didn't want to speak to anyone.

Even if it was absolutely none of his business, Elliot desperately wanted to know what the hell it was that their teacher had spoken to Leo about. Because, whatever it was, had clearly touched a nerve with Leo.

Yet, still, the one thing Elliot couldn't do after all this time of being with Leo was understand what was going on inside his head.

It was irrefutably frustrating that he had nothing else to do, or say, to maybe cheer him up a little. He was his _boyfriend,_ for God's sake. Something was clearly missing; something obvious yet discrete at the same time.

For now, though, Elliot gave up trying to understand him; such a futile hope really wasn't worth the effort.

* * *

Returning home to an empty house was certainly off-putting.

Usually, by the time Gilbert arrived home, Vincent was already there, either because he finished early, bunked his last lessons, or had been driven home by some other random year 13. So, needless to say, when he got home today, called his brother's name but got no response, Gilbert was a little… concerned.

Particularly when, like most days, he had a scheduled therapy appointment. He was on his last chance now, as well; if he missed any more appointments, they'd almost certainly kick him out the program.

Gilbert, instead of immediately going back out, shuffled through the empty house to the back garden, dumping his bag down in the kitchen before pulling out the pack of cigarettes left in his jacket from yesterday and lighting up.

Exhaling the first breath of smoke, he retrieved his phone, and loaded up the conversation with Vincent. However, right before he could his send, his phone froze, vibrating a moment later.

 _[Incoming call: Oz]_

A perplexed expression stretching across his features, Gilbert picked up the call. He saw no other option; if it was something important, he couldn't exactly _ignore_ him.

"Oz?" he answered, silently dragging on the cigarette and praying that the other couldn't tell what he was preoccupied with.

 _"_ _Ah, hi Gil,"_ Oz replied, almost as if he was surprised that Gilbert had actually picked up. _"I, uh, missed the bus, so… I was wondering if you could drive me home?"_

"Um, well, I…" Gilbert's words trailed off. He hated having to refuse Oz's requests.

 _"_ _Sorry. I know you're probably busy. It's just my… father wanted me home early today."_

"Yeah, sorry… I have to drive Vince to therapy, er… now?" Gilbert declined as politely as possible, puffing on the cigarette again in hope it would make him feel less guilty somehow. "Speaking of which…" his tone turned slightly irritated, "do you have any idea where my brother is right now?"

 _"_ _Well…"_ The other end of the line fell silent for a moment, spare the rustling of paper, before Oz responded. _"He's out at the smoking shelter with some other year 13s. I'm… not sure, but I think they're smoking pot?"_

"Goddammit Vince…" Gilbert cursed under his breath. This was the second time this had happened this month. And there was only so much persuading him and his parents could do to get Vincent not kicked out of his therapy program. "Uh, yeah, sorry Oz. But I have to go find my brother now and give him an earful."

 _"_ _Hehe, it's okay,"_ Oz chuckled, albeit his amusement seemed forced. _"Thanks anyway. And uh, good luck with Vincent."_

"Yeah…" Gilbert grunted, ending the call as he placed the cigarette back between his teeth.

Already feeling himself grow pissed off by the other, he sent Vincent a very passive-aggressive message.

 ** _[To Vince, 15:24]  
_** _where the hell are you_

Less than a minute later, he got his response.

 ** _[From Vince, 15:24]  
_** _at collwge_

 ** _[From Vince, 15:25]  
_** _dson't worry avbout me gil, i'lk walk_

Rather reluctantly, Gilbert came to the quick conclusion that Vincent was, most likely, high right now.

With one last aggravated inhale on the cigarette, despite it having done nothing to even remotely calm him down, he typed out one last message before grabbing his car keys and heading back to his car.

 ** _[To Vince, 15:27]  
_** _it's -1 degrees, your therapy is in the next town, and the appointment is in 30 minutes. i'm coming to get you now._

Even though Gilbert didn't check his phone once when he was driving back to their college, he was certain Vincent wouldn't have replied, or even seen his message. And sure enough, when he pulled up outside the school gates, barely visible through the bushes which shielded away the smoking shelter, the shocked expression spreading across Vincent's face confirmed that he _definitely_ wasn't expecting Gilbert to show up.

He wasn't stupid, though. He wasn't Vincent's mother (although it certainly felt like it sometimes), so instead of clambering out of the car, approaching him, and embarrassing them both, Gilbert remained in the car.

As always, a few minutes later, Vincent appeared, staggering down the steps out the college with a slight inebriated sway in his steps.

From the moment he climbed into the car, without uttering a single word, Gilbert confirmed for the final time that he was sure as hell _stoned_. And no calmer, for that matter; no, if anything, getting high made his natural aura of creepiness seem even more prominent, along with exacerbating his usual aggravation towards the world and everything in it. It was a miracle he'd even gotten in the car without protest.

"Are you taking me straight to therapy?" Vincent questioned, his tone resembling a scolded child, as he turned his head downwards and placed his hands in his lap.

"Yes. We're already late," Gilbert answered, trying not to sound _too_ disappointed in his brother. Because _that_ would _definitely_ provoke him more.

"Hm…" Vincent hummed disapprovingly. "Hey, Gil. Can I have a smoke?"

"What the hell? No, this is my-" _car_. He cut himself off mid-sentence, remembering that Vincent was far from in his right mind. His parents went in his car sometimes, so letting Vincent light up would be foolish. But letting Vincent grow even more temperamental – before therapy, of all times – was even more foolish. He sighed, pulling the pack from his pocket and holding it out to his brother. "Fine. But roll down the window."

Without any sign of gratitude, Vincent plucked a cigarette from the pack. Sticking it between his lips, it took him multiple tries before he finally lit up. When he forgot to roll down the window, Gilbert internally rolled his eyes, and flicked the button himself.

"So…" he started tentatively, the smell of smoke (annoyingly) reminding him of the cigarette he didn't get to finish earlier. "Are your… t-the new meds working?"

A dismissive grin barely tugging at his lips, Vincent's reply came with a sinisterly nonchalant, mellow tone. "You let me worry about that, alright, Gil?"

To avoid conflict, Gilbert simply nodded.

(He wasn't convinced.)

* * *

Leo smokes. Not many people know this. He's not proud of it, he doesn't particularly enjoy it, and he knows he should break the habit eventually.

Just… not yet.

In fact, very, _very_ few people know – two, namely: his online friend, and his pest of a sister. Once again, he's not proud of it, hence no one else knows. But that singular fact is also what leads to the same routine every night of hiding away, in the shroud of bushes at the very end of the garden, hoping to get through one smoke without Flo chasing after him to argue the money which he may or may not have _borrowed_.

Speaking of his online friend, this was the main time they each spoke. Of course, they were in touch throughout most of the day, but the secrecy they had from family and friends was mutual.

 **[Tumblr]** ** _allthatglittersaintgoldsweetie:_** _my bitch ass uncle keeps whining about my grades  
_ _ **allthatglittersaintgoldsweetie:**_ _fucking dick  
_ _ **allthatglittersaintgoldsweetie:**_ _like do i care? no. no i clearly dont._

Leo chuckled, holding the cigarette between his teeth and holding it there, inhaling briefly, as he replied to the spam of messages.

 **[Tumblr]** ** _hell-is-empty:_** _results day might have been like two weeks ago now but my biology grade still bugs me_

 **[Tumblr]** ** _allthatglittersaintgoldsweetie:_** _you think it's the drugs?  
_ _ **allthatglittersaintgoldsweetie:**_ _i cant even deny it anymore, thats definitely one of the reasons mine are so shit_

 **[Tumblr]** ** _hell-is-empty:_** _yeah, maybe_

 **[Tumblr]** ** _allthatglittersaintgoldsweetie:_** _i do remember seeing some smartass kid in my class acting all disappointed with his high ass grades_

 **[Tumblr]** ** _hell-is-empty:_** _ohh what if it was me haha_

As he hit send on the most recent message, Leo chuckled aloud a little. Funnily enough, despite being in contact with each other for well over 6 months and knowing next to everything about each other, they'd never shared their locations. Being in the same place was too far-fetched, and unlikely.

Besides, part of their friendship relied purely on anonymity. But Leo had to admit, it was be _fucking surreal_ to meet your online friend in _real life_.

Just before he could ask the other the question which had been resting at the back of his mind for a long time, he was beaten to it.

 **[Tumblr]** ** _allthatglittersaintgoldsweetie:_** _that reminds me, whereabouts are you from?_

Without much of a thought, Leo typed out his response: a one-word name of a town, followed by another message of _"wby?"_

There was a solid minute until he received a reply.

 **[Tumblr]** ** _allthatglittersaintgoldsweetie:_** _omg  
_ _ **allthatglittersaintgoldsweetie:**_ _do u go to pandora college by any chance  
_ _ **allthatglittersaintgoldsweetie:**_ _or live in the estate near it_

Leo had to read over that message three times before it sunk it. And when it did, his limbs _froze,_ the cigarette dropping from between his fingers.

 **[Tumblr]** ** _hell-is-empty:_** _holy shit what are you doing rn_

 **[Tumblr]** ** _allthatglittersaintgoldsweetie:_** _outside having a fag  
_ _ **allthatglittersaintgoldsweetie:**_ _why?_

He couldn't believe this was happening. The overwhelming feeling of many emotions which he couldn't comprehend was insane. So much so that his hands began to tremble.

 **[Tumblr]** ** _hell-is-empty:_** _do you know the park, like right in the centre of the estate, with the wooden hut and broken swings?_

 **[Tumblr]** ** _allthatglittersaintgoldsweetie:_** _yeah its like 2 minutes from my house  
_ _ **allthatglittersaintgoldsweetie:**_ _holy shit is this actually_

Leo felt his heart miss a beat.

 **[Tumblr]** ** _hell-is-empty:_** _go there now. like rn._

The second after he shoved his phone in his pocket, he felt it vibrate, but Leo didn't care. Grinding the cigarette into the twigs with his foot, he climbed over his garden fence with a rush of adrenaline, and began speed walking down his road, towards _that_ park.

Part of him still refused to believe this was even happening. It was too much of a coincidence. There was a misunderstanding. Or maybe he was just delusional, or imagining it.

Whether this was really happening or not, the chances of _this_ were so slim it made his head spin. _This_ being the fact that his most trusted friend – the person who had seen the best and worst of him; the person who had listened to every tiny irrelevant problem he'd had; hell, the person he _literally shared an addiction with_ – might have been five minutes away from him this entire time.

When he reached the park, having no idea how much time had passed, Leo was sure his heart stopped at the sight of a silhouette.

The figure had his hood up, hands stuck in his pockets with his head turned downwards.

And Leo knew it was _him_.

His footsteps barely made a sound as he approached him, his mouth dropping open but producing no sound. Every breath caught in his throat. And yet still, he was heard, the figure visibly jolting before turning around, his eyes widening.

The two stared at each other for a solid minute, before Leo mustered up the courage to _say something_.

"You're…" he said, his voice cracking as the indescribable feeling of intense relief continued to overwhelm him. "… Vanitas, right?"

"Yeah…" Vanitas nodded, pulling the hood away from his face and raking a hand through his dishevelled hair. "And you're… Leo. Elliot's boyfriend…?"

"Ha, y-yeah…" Leo felt himself crack a smile. But not before a flood of tears suddenly spilled over his cheeks.

When Vanitas grew as emotional as he did, the two practically gravitated towards each other, engulfing one another in a tight, reassuring hug. A hug which spoke a million words. A hug which was _6 months_ overdue.

It took at least 5 minutes before they stopped sobbing, pulling away from each other with a sheepish glance. Wordlessly, Vanitas wandered over to the swings, and naturally, Leo followed.

"Sorry, I've… never spoken to you," Vanitas said quietly, turning his head back towards the ground and rolling a cigarette.

"You're in my Literature class," Leo pointed out with a somewhat bemused grin, as he lit a cigarette for himself. After the first exhale, he felt… content. More so than he'd felt in a long, _long_ time; like he was with the _only damn person_ he could truly trust.

"Oh." Vanitas' expression was totally blank. He lifted his head up, lighting the cigarette before briefly meeting Leo's eyes. "I don't show up much. I got an E, so…"

Leo nodded, tapping the ash off the cigarette and trying to ignore the fact that _he_ was probably that _"smart ass kid"_ Vanitas was talking about earlier.

"So…" Vanitas paused, dragging on the cigarette. "How's your sister been lately?"

To no surprise, Leo and Vanitas each knew their respective pasts. Leo knew that Vanitas' father committed suicide and his mother ran off when he was 11, and that he'd been adopted by his uncle when he was 12, with whom he had the most toxic relationship ever with. Not even Noé knew all of that. And likewise, Vanitas knew all about how Leo had been in a foster home since he was 12, with a sister he also struggled to find middle ground with. And, once again, Elliot knew very little of that.

"Weird," Leo answered. It was an ambiguous response, and he only expanded it after another inhale from the cigarette. "She's always telling me there's something wrong." He glanced down, shamefacedly. "And obviously she's… right, but… there always seems to be something wrong with her, too."

Vanitas, out of simple compassion, nodded. Basic sympathy was usually enough between them.

And then, they talked.

They talked for hours, and hours. Neither of them were keeping track of time.

Until _finally,_ for the first time in several hours, their conversations came to a stop, and silence befell the park. The moon shone brightly, being the only source of light spare the embers of their cigarettes.

Although painful, their focuses soon fixed on each other's hands – _shaking_ hands. And suddenly, the weight of the air around them was just as uncomfortable as the cravings which, evidently, they'd managed to ignore.

Up until now, at least.

"How long?" Vanitas asked. It was a simple question, but the ominous edge embedded in his tone made it quite clear to Leo what he was talking about.

"I don't know," Leo muttered, reaching into his pocket for his phone, cursing under his breath when he noticed the missed calls from Flo. Or, more noticeably, the fact that the time was 1:30am. "Shit, I need to go home."

"9pm. That's how long for me," Vanitas said, dropping his cigarette onto the ground. "How long has it been, Leo?"

"I'm trying to remember," Leo replied, his words barely audible. Already, the anxiety from _this_ length of cessation was getting at him, clawing at his skin. "Like, 6 hours. Over. _Shit_."

"Fuck me, you must be feeling worse than me," Vanitas murmured as they both stood up, moving slowly closer and pulling each other into a tight, reassuring hug. "We'll do this again, yeah?"

Leo, burying his head in Vanitas' shoulder, exhaled shakily, trying to shut off every craving-fuelling emotion in his body. "Please."

From the moment they pulled away, the two began going their separate ways. The moment was gone; now, they had one priority, and one only.

Halfway through the speed walk to his house, Leo felt his phone vibrate, only then remembering that Vanitas now had his number.

 ** _[From Vanitas, 01:37]_** **  
** _im glad we met. for real._

He smiled. Barely. And with trembling fingers, just about able to type two words, Leo replied.

 ** _[To Vanitas, 01:38]  
_** _me too_


	6. Chapter 6

**_look i don't care if it's almost midnight and i have work tomorrow and it's also my exam week this week, i was DETERMINED to get this done and i am uploading it tonight._**  
 ** _so this chapter introduces another one of the main plotlines. it's probably the most triggering to please please do pay attention to the content warnings._**  
 ** _content warnings: swearing, smoking, references to drugs, anxiety, mentions of abuse, self-harm, eating disorders, graphic descriptions of self-harm, mentions of bulimia, discussions of sex, and making out happens a couple of times lol._**

 ** _not sure i should even say "enjoy!" at this point in the fic. oops._**

 ** _(disclaimer: i do not own Pandora Hearts or Vanitas no Carte)_**

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

 ** _[To Alice, 07:56]  
_** _im outside_

 ** _[To Alice, 07:59]  
_** _Alice?_

 ** _[To Alice, 08:04]  
_** _we said 8… :( I'm guessing you're not even awake yet_

Sighing, Oz finally accepted that Alice was probably still asleep. _Despite_ the fact they agreed to leave for college at 8am, get there at 8:15, and have half an hour to sift through UCAS stuff, once again figuring out where the hell Alice was meant to go once she left college.

Right when he was about to give up hope and call her, the sound of eager thudding down stairs began growing louder, before the door swung open a second after a brief silence. Alice, to no surprise, was still in her pyjamas, her hair beyond a mess.

"Why didn't you tell me it was snowing?!" Alice yelled the moment she laid eyes on outside. It wasn't snowing anymore, but if Oz wanted to get her out of the house, telling her about the three inches of snow blanketing the ground probably would've been a decent start. "I want to play in the snow!"

"Alice, we said we'd leave at 8," Oz deadpanned, following her inside the house.

"Exactly!" Alice exclaimed, kicking the door shut and scrambling up the stairs, back up to her bedroom. "So I set my alarm for 8!"

Oz did have to stop and question how she was almost 18.

Wordlessly, he followed her into her bedroom; he'd been here enough times. And Alice didn't appear particularly phased about him being there, as she stripped off her pyjamas and changed into jeans and a bunny jumper. Still, though, Oz had the decency to turn around, and help pack her rucksack.

"Where's your Drama textbook?" he asked, staring at the mess before him which was somehow excusable as a desk.

"I lost it," Alice replied. Clearly, it wasn't a big deal to her. "Come on, I need breakfast!"

"Alice, we need to _go_ ," Oz sighed, but dragged himself down the stairs anyway, taking her rucksack with him. Because, obviously, she wasn't going to remember it. When he reached the kitchen, he exhaled another heavy sigh, as he dropped down at her table and hunched over. "We don't have time to make bacon."

"I need nutrition, Oz! Don't you know anything?!" she said.

"Well… where are your parents? Eh, don't they usually make it?"

"Asleep."

"… right."

The kitchen, expectedly, fell silent. Spare the sound of sizzling bacon which was being turned over and attended to an excessive amount. After about 10 minutes, the time having reached quarter past eight, she was finished, leaving the frying pan on the hob and seating herself at the table, opposite Oz.

However, instead of instantly devouring every ounce of food on the plate, she picked up the fork, paused, and then shot a vaguely interrogative glance at Oz. "Why do you always leave your house so early?"

"I'm not sure." Oz chuckled, shrugging sheepishly. "I guess I'm just hard-working?"

Alice, unconvinced, narrowed her eyes at him, but didn't say anything more, digging into the six slabs of bacon piled on her plate.

She was finished in two minutes.

"Alright, let's go!" she declared. The plate abandoned on the table, she grabbed her bag from beside Oz, and tugged him out the house by the sleeve.

 _At least we'll be at college by 8:30…_ Oz thought to himself, ultimately in defeat.

The air was bitterly cold, but what was even colder was the two snowballs which were promptly launched at his face.

"Ah, Alice… why?" Oz whined. Despite his annoyance, though, he couldn't help but laugh a little. They hadn't had snow in so long, and getting bombarded with snowballs reminded him of when he and Ada were young.

"You always look really sad!" Alice declared, circling the sidewalk in search of more snow. "So I thought I'd cheer you up! And you're smiling, so you can thank you ya know!"

His smile faltering a little, Oz forced himself to chuckle again. "Yeah… thanks, Alice."

* * *

Flo didn't like to consider herself anti-social.

Having said that, it was painfully true that she was.

Of their entire group (all four of them), there were two introverts, and two extroverts. Vanitas was, annoyingly, like her: introverted. Most of the time. And they hated each other. (Of course, that would _never_ be because they were even _remotely_ similar, or anything.) Roland and Noé took the extrovert titles, getting along with anyone and everyone. In their own ways.

Sometimes, Flo let her introversion take over, keeping her head down in a textbook for two double periods. She had no idea where the others were, but honestly, she couldn't have given less of a shit.

Until Roland appeared.

 _Jesus fuck…_ Flo groaned internally, cursing herself after she realised the mere thought of the word "Jesus" was probably what attracted him in the first place. Why he was here, she didn't know; he was _supposed_ to be in lesson now. Flo knew this; she knew everyone's timetables better than they did.

Cranking her neck upwards, Flo sighed aloud when Roland sat down opposite, with the sickening beaming smile spread across his face. "Hello!"

"Why are you here?" she grunted, yanking one headphone out. Not that she was remotely interested in anything he had to say; she really didn't feel like speaking to anyone right now.

"I finished my test early," Roland answered, the smile donning his lips showing no signs of faltering. "It was RE, and my teacher understood, so she let me leave early. How kind of her!""

Flo blinked a couple of times, and then turned back down to her work. "Alright," she muttered, hoping Roland would get the hint and _leave_.

Obviously, expecting Roland to _get the fucking hint_ was like expecting Roland to suddenly turn atheist; it just wasn't going to happen. And instead of leaving, he switched chairs to sit opposite her, and stared at her until finally, he caught her attention again. But he didn't say anything. He just sat there, without a word, with his hands cupped together on the desk in front of him, and the smile _still there._

"What do you want, Roland?" she sighed, reluctantly turning off her music.

"You've been distant lately," Roland stated simply. His words were untainted by judgement, but it still managed to piss Flo off.

"I don't need to have this conversation with y-"

"You know I respect you, and your privacy. I understand that. And I admire you as a person," Roland said. For each word, his tone remained completely level. "However, it is also my duty to ask you if you are ok. And not only because Jesus would want me to, but also because _I_ want to. As your friend."

For a second, Flo didn't know how to respond.

She was so close – _so close –_ to spitting it out. Blurting out that for the past few weeks she'd had these stupid, incessant feelings of _wrongness_ warping her entire body. Blurting out that _something wasn't right_ and that she was more or less in denial at this point.

But nothing came out.

When she did manage to speak, it was aggressive. "I'm _fine_."

Roland tilted his head at her. "You're a terrible liar."

"Roland, in the nicest way possible, piss off?" she spat, packing away her things without a second thought. "Let me deal with my own problems, alright?"

Mouth dropping open, Roland didn't get the chance to stop Flo before she grabbed her bag, and stormed off, her footsteps pounding across the wooden floor.

And this time, he didn't follow her.

* * *

Break arriving to lunch ten minutes late with nothing to show for it was beginning to become a regular occurrence now.

In all honesty, Oz didn't really feel like he had anything to do with this ordeal. And from the awkward, avoidant expression spread across his face, neither did Gil. To them, this was between Break, and Sharon and Reim.

Which was why he felt his heart drop when he saw Break arriving at their lunch table, presumably having disappeared to the shop as usual beforehand.

"Hey Break!" Oz greeted, doing his best to mask the awkward silence radiating from Sharon and Reim's collective presence.

"Ah, hello Oz~" Break chimed. For once, his aura lacked its usual suspicious edge, but the interactive glares from the other two hardly served as compensation. "Say, I don't know why Reim and Sharon aren't saying anything."

"Well first of all, it could be to do with the fact you disappeared after period 4," Reim deadpanned.

Pulling out a box of 6 iced ring doughnuts, Break waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense~!"

"Xerx, we _talked_ about this. You know what I mean by that." Reim tried to lower his voice, but the frustration in his tone meant he failed to. "Sorry. I apologise if I made a scene."

"If he wants attention, give him attention," Sharon said with a smile. The smile itself was just misleading.

An awkward silence initiated.

"You can have the rest of this, if you want," Oz offered, pushing his half-finished pot of fruit towards the other. It was a brief attempt at creating peace, but his lack of appetite was also part of his reasoning.

"Hmm, I appreciate the offer, but I'll have to decline, I'm afraid~" Break hummed, finishing his last doughnut. "Besides, Oz, you could use it yourself. You're a little thin if you ask me."

"I don't think you're in the position to be saying that to Oz," Reim scolded, clearly kicking Break from under the table.

It was a simple comment. Oz had no reason whatsoever to think anything of it, but because he could stop and think rationally, his anxiety decided to make itself known. Racing thoughts made his head spin. What did that even _mean?_ Did Break suspect something?

Did they know about his father, somehow?

The next time he glanced across the table, snapping back into reality, Break had gone, and Alice had helped herself to the rest of his lunch. As per usual.

The voice speaking to him was Gilbert's. "Oz? Are you okay? You look a bit… pale?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he lied, along with a fake smile. Within the pockets of his hoodie, he felt his hands shake.

Right now - during lunch, at college - wasn't really the best time to be feeling like this. But he did. And nothing else could help it.

"I'm… gonna head to the bathroom quickly," Oz said quietly, trying not to draw attention to himself.

"If Xerx is in there, tell him to get back here," Reim said.

Although he nodded wordlessly, as he picked up his bag, Oz wasn't prepared to get involved in the ongoing problems between those three.

Trundling through the snow across to the bathrooms, he tried - and failed - to slow the incessant thoughts. Nothing seemed to work. And like always, he was back to square one.

Once in there, he shuffled into one of the stalls, taking brief note of the other closed door; presumably where Break was. Trembling hands just about managed to close the door behind him, before he dropped his bag onto the floor, and internally cursed himself for being so loud.

This really wasn't the time or place to be doing this, but he couldn't see any other way of alleviating everything which came flooding back, all because of one insignificant comment.

Oz didn't hesitate too much, or overthink it, as he opened the zipped pocket inside his bag and pulled out the razor.

He'd never told anyone about this vice. No one needed to know. It was simply a distraction, which he'd _stupidly_ made a habit of.

But no one needed to know that.

Rolling up his sleeve, Oz tried not to pay too much attention to each scar etched into his skin. His wrists, right up to his elbows, were covered in scars, all overlapping; some old, some new.

Slumped against the wall, with the razor ready in his right hand, finding old scars to simply reopen was easy enough.

One cut later, and Oz could ready feel his attention slipping away from his thoughts and zooming in on the string, and the blood forming beads against his pale skin.

One more, he told himself.

Right before he could, there was concerning splash, it sounded like, from a few stalls away.

That was Break.

Break was throwing up.

 _Ah._

 _That makes sense._

Nonchalantly, Oz drew the blade over his wrist one last time, before cleaning off the blood from his razor with tissue and pocketing it.

His sleeves still rolled up, he opened the door silently, and wandered over to the sinks. No one else was there, apart from Break. And Oz couldn't care less about what Break had to say to him; if he wanted to point out the self-harm, then so be it. Either way, what could he do, when he _himself_ had just been caught purging?

Of course, it was a very broad assumption to make, and Oz knew that. But it made _so much sense_.

Sure enough, two minutes later, the stall door clicked unlocked.

In his peripheral vision, Oz saw Break stop where he was, like a deer in the headlights. And he stared, for a good few seconds, at Oz's wrists, and the red water running into the sink.

"You were throwing up," Oz said, words void of any emotion.

Break, as usual, smiled widely, and waved a dismissive hand. "Must be food poisoning. I really ought to go vegetarian."

"Why are you doing this, Break?" Oz sighed. He kept his gaze on his wrists, waiting for the bleeding to stop, and avoiding all eye contact. "Especially after last time?"

"I don't-"

"Don't play innocent with me," he tried. It felt weird, really; he'd never spoken like this to Break. Their friendship was hardly close, and now _this_ was happening. Now they each knew their probably deepest secrets.

"Alright," Break sighed, throwing his arms up, his smile faltering slightly and turning shameful. "You caught me."

Silence ensued.

"But," Break gestured to his wrists, now plastered in red-stained tissue, "you can't exactly play innocent either."

"Yeah…" Oz sighed again, smiling sadly, as he continued waiting for the cuts to stop bleeding. "You're right."

"Well, now that _this_ has happened..." Break said, his tone indecipherable, and as he started washing his hands, Oz found himself pondering over whether he was annoyed, embarrassed, or something else entirely. "Naturally, I don't want you to tell Reim about this. However, I'm sure you don't want me to tell Gilbert, either."

"Yeah… please don't," Oz chuckled sheepishly, instinctively covering his wrists with his sleeves at the mention of Gil. "He'd be… disappointed."

"Likewise, hm," Break hummed, "Well… that's perfect, then~! I'll keep your little secret if you keep mine. Do we have a deal?"

"On one condition," Oz interjected, folding his arms over his chest. "You talk to me about this. I know there's… very little I can do, but I don't want you battling this alone."

"Hm, I suppose I could say the same back to you, you know," Break said, shaking Oz's hand loosely. As loose as it was, though, the feeling of his bones protruding from his fingers made Oz's heart sink. "It seems we've made an alliance, of sorts~"

"Yeah. Also… Reim wanted you back."

"Ugfh," Break gave an exasperated sigh, dragging himself across the floor and out the bathroom. "Fine, let's go back. And remember, _Oz:_ act _normal~_ "

Oz nodded, and followed Break without protest.

He was, however, admittedly unsure of how to act _normal_ after having maybe the weirdest encounter with someone he'd ever had.

* * *

"Hm… Gilbert?"

"Nope."

"Oswald?"

"Hell no. I doubt he can even get it up."

"Vanitas?"

"God no."

The obvious disgust woven into Lottie's tone at her suggestions made Domi chuckle.

Currently, Lottie was at Domi's house, the time slowly creeping up to 9pm. They were playing Domi's favourite game, which was called "can I guess who Lottie was with last night?" – she lost, usually. Lottie was actually a lot more secretive than she let off.

"Hm… what about Jack?"

"As if I'd sleep with _him_ ," Lottie screwed her face up, shifting slightly, her head laying on Domi's stomach as she scrolled through her phone. "I wouldn't sleep with my friends' ex anyway."

"You say that," Domi narrowed her eyes jokingly. "But, I'm fairly certain you've slept with Vincent."

"Do you have any actual evidence of that?" Lottie said.

"Everyone says he's good in bed."

"Doesn't mean I've slept with him."

"Yes, it does," Domi countered, chuckling to herself. "Hm… what about Noé?"

Lottie paused, cranked her neck to the side, and stared at Domi blankly. "As if you'd let me fuck your brother."

"If it meant he broke up with Vanitas, I'd let you."

"Right," Lottie huffed. The room fell silence for a mere few seconds, before she sat up abruptly, with her eyes fixed to her phone scene. "Sadly, I have to leave you to it. My mum wants me home."

Domi responded with a derisive snort. "Yeah right. You're just going to see Levi again. To _fuck_."

"Alright, you got me there~" Lottie snickered, throwing her jacket over her shoulders and picking up her phone. "What can I say? He's home alone."

"Ok, but, serious question now," Domi said, rolling over onto her stomach and narrowing her eyes up at Lottie. "What's _really_ going on between you and Levi?"

At first, Lottie didn't respond, as if the question made her… uncomfortable. Pocketing her phone, she stepped into her heeled boots, left at the side of the room, and zipped them up, before pulling out her phone again. Only when she caught sight of Domi's impatient stare did she reluctantly reply. "That's a topic for another time."

"Hm…" Domi rolled off the bed, wandering over to her. "Is it because you're seeing other guys?"

This time, Lottie simply didn't give an answer.

"I'll see you at college tomorrow," she said, her tone blank of emotion.

Out of habit, Domi engulfed her in a tight hug before she walked out the door. That didn't, however, stop the concerned, put-off frown stretching across her face. "I don't like this secretiveness."

"And I don't like your _interrogativeness_ ," Lottie winked. It was teasing, but also hiding a biting edge.

Without another glance at Domi, she set off down the road, the click of her heels muffled by the layer of snow, still barely covering the ground.

To no surprise, her, Domi, and Levi all lived in the same area of town; the rich, middle-upper class part. Because of that, after only five minutes of walking, she arrived at Levi's.

Levi's parents – like Lacie's – often weren't there. They had better things to do. All of Levi's older siblings had left home, and were either at university or working. (It wasn't much of a shock that Levi was the youngest.)

And _"home alone"_ always meant the _exact_ same thing.

"Waiting for me, are we?" Lottie purred, walking up his porch once she spotted him, leant against the door frame with a cigarette dangling between two fingers.

Within a second, the grin twisting at her lips was captured by Levi's, his tongue slipping past her lips. The embrace was brief, but that was all they needed. That was why Lottie never answered Domi's question: she didn't know.

When it came down to it, sleeping with each other a few nights a week seemed to work.

"I wish you'd quit smoking at some point," Lottie pouted, pulling away but keeping her arm where it was on his back. "You taste _gross_."

"Sure," Levi shrugged, pointedly dragging on the cigarette. "I'll stop smoking when you stop sleeping with other men."

Her smirk turned more devious. "We _both_ know that's not going to happen." She leant up, planting her lips onto his once again. "But, I _suppose_ you'll have to suffice for tonight~"

* * *

"Noé, seriously, you bought _champagne_?"

His expression turning perplexed, Noé tilted his head at Vanitas. "I don't see the problem."

"It's not a problem, it's just a bit extra," Vanitas pointed out bluntly, gesturing to their surroundings. Which were, to be specific, a picnic blanket, a park, and an inch of snow.

"Yes, but we agreed this would be our date night!" Noé tried to justify, handing Vanitas a glass and popping open the bottle. "I bought this a week ago. And you see, I hadn't planned for snow in March."

"No one did," Vanitas muttered under his breath, pulling his coat tighter around him. He hated the cold. Why the _fuck_ was it even snowing in March anyway?

"I knew you weren't going to turn down alcohol," Noé smiled, filling Vanitas' glass before attending to his own. When he was done, he carefully placed the bottle down beside him, and then raised his glass. "A toast."

"Sure, but," Vanitas touched their glasses together with a _clink_ regardless, "what to?"

"Hm… us?"

"… alright."

Noé smiled. And as much as Vanitas hated to admit it, Noé's smile was contagious. And he couldn't resist cracking a grin to cover up the grimace threatening to twist onto his face; he'd never had much of a taste for champagne.

A few seconds later, the two gravitated towards each other, their lips connecting as naturally as they always did. Briefly, he felt the metal of Vanitas' tongue piercing brush against his tongue. Eyes lulled shut, Noé slowly began dissociating from their surroundings, the fact that it was 11pm and minus seven degrees becoming irrelevant.

Vanitas pulled away a minute later, digging a hand into his pocket as if he'd just remembered something. And he had, as a few seconds after, he pulled out a blunt, already rolled and held tightly between two fingers. "Want a hit?"

Noé paused.

On most occasions, he didn't think too much about drugs. When he was 13, and had been adopted by Domi's grandfather, Domi's older brother – Louis – was 15. For an unknown length of time, he'd been _experimenting_ with drugs. And at that point, he passed away. A heroin overdose. Neither him nor Domi knew much else.

The weight of Louis' death certainly dragged him down sometimes, but Noé was hardly closed minded. There was, irrefutably, a _big_ difference between meddling with drugs like heroin, and smoking weed occasionally. And if he were to say he and Vanitas had never gotten high together, it would be a total lie.

It was merely something small they shared, every now and again.

"Sure!" Noé replied with a beaming smile, snapping from his trance.

With precision in his every move, Vanitas lifted his lighter to the tip of the blunt, inhaled smoothly, and passed the blunt to Noé. Placing it between his lips, Noé couldn't help but become captivated by the smoke, spiralling into plumes from Vanitas' mouth.

After a few puffs from the blunt, he began to feel his inhibitions slipping away.

But neither of them was totally inebriated. Weed never had that effect on them.

"Hey Vani," Noé said, exhaling smoke and passing the blunt down to Vanitas, whose head was now placed in his lap. "Can you promise me something?"

"What?" Vanitas grunted. He tapped the ash off the blunt, watching it crumble into the grass, before inhaling deeply from his, avoiding Noé's gaze entirely.

Noé paused, momentarily. "Promise me you'll tell me if things get really bad."

Keeping the blunt for himself this time, Vanitas' reply was as vague as it could be. "I don't know what you mean."

"Well…" Noé stammered. He dragged his fingers through his hair, mentally exhausted, it seemed. "Everything with you recently, like how… _distant_ you seem. It just… it reminds me of Louis, before he, you know, passed away. And I know I'm not… I shouldn't pry into your life, but… I won't judge you, Vanitas. I love you, and I'm not willing to lose you yet."

Silence.

Nothing but silence.

In all honesty, Noé felt a little let down. Here he was, pouring his heart out to Vanitas; talking about something which he'd bottled up for a while now.

And in response, he got _nothing_?

Stubbing out the blunt, Vanitas stuffed his hands into his pockets, before exhaling softly. "I'm not using regularly."

His words were almost inaudible.

"But… you're using?" Noé said.

Another pause. Vanitas bit down on his lower lip, before clicking the barbell in his tongue against his teeth, and shrugging. "Experimenting."

Noé felt his chest tighten, and his blood run cold.

"Ok…" he said, "Well… you can stop, right?"

"And there it is," Vanitas spat, his words laced with a harsh bitterness.

"What did I do?" Noé asked, as he felt his heart sink in his chest. "Vani-"

"For fuck's sake Noé, you know what you do," Vanitas accused, rolling his eyes and sitting up. "You coax me into telling you shit, with your emotional _bullshit_ , saying you won't judge 'n all that crap, and then you try and change shit anyway!"

Noé's mouth dropped open to reply.

Vanitas cut him off before he could. "Just… pretend I didn't tell you anything, please."

"I only want the best for you, Vani," Noé tried.

Despite his pleading, though, Vanitas still stood up, and turned on his heel, picking up his phone. "That's not up to you, is it? You don't _know_ what's best for me."

"I want to know, Vanitas! I-I don't want to feel like I'm treading on egg shells around you!"

His back to Noé, Vanitas spun around, and said one last thing. "If you don't want to be treading on egg shells, then… you shouldn't have broken them in the first place."

Beneath his drug-addled mind telling him _"ooh, what a nice metaphor!"_ , Noé sighed, a pang of guilt making his chest ache once again, as he watched Vanitas storm off into the distance.

He'd tried to reach out. And he failed. Miserably.

And yet, despite all the emotions dwelling inside him right now, Noé knew that, by tomorrow, Vanitas will have wiped this interaction from his mind.


	7. Chapter 7

**_(A/Ns: wooaaah under 3 weeks for an update again aaaaah. anyways yes there's a lot of weed in this fic. it's a pretty common thing here. everyone does it. (i don't, but then again it'd be pretty hypocritical if i did). a lot of little things go on in this chapter, as usual. try pick up on them!_**  
 ** _content warnings: strong descriptions of eating disorders, descriptions of self harm, discussions of abuse, drug use, mentions of addiction, swearing, mentions of sex, smoking, brief mentions of vomit._**

 ** _disclaimer: i do not own Pandora Hearts or Vanitas no Carte)_**

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

Sometimes, secrets existed for a reason. Break had always been a strong believer of that.

The incident from yesterday was still fresh in his mind. Walking out of that stall and laying eyes on _Oz_ , pointedly with his back to him, made him panic more than he ever had before. His secret was no longer a secret. And the last time that happened, he ended up in treatment for 8 months.

Oz was different, though. They had blackmail against each other. Neither of them would dare say anything to _anyone_ else, out of fear for themselves. On top of that, Break had been growing suspicious of him for a while; he was oddly distant, and yet so good at hiding it. Too good, almost. So, needless to say, the incident in the bathroom yesterday wasn't the only pending topic of discussion.

That was what Break hoped, at least. They'd formed an alliance – in a sense – after all.

With that in mind, they were meeting the very next day, at 8am sharp.

Break didn't mind leaving his house early. It wasn't as if he had a _bad_ home life. If anything, it was the opposite; he'd been spoilt rotten as the only child, and he knew that. He also knew he was an absolute _shit_ to his parents. Did that stop him? Of course not.

"Hey."

Being pulled from his trance, Break slowly cranked his neck to the side, turning his phone off as Oz approached him.

"Good morning," he greeted in response, his words totally void of the usual teasing edge.

Oz, averting his gaze to the floor, subconsciously pulled his sleeves over his wrists – it now made so much sense why he always did that – before staring off into the distance and asking, "Where did you want to go?"

"Hm…" Break hummed, pushing himself off the wall and gesturing down the street. "The field?"

"Sure," Oz agreed, following the other away from their college, and down the small alley which led to the park. At this time in the morning, it was deserted, but for the sake of privacy, they still settled down on the grass far away from the path, shielded by bushes and underneath a tree. The snow from yesterday has already melted, and the grass a little wet, but neither of them seemed to care all that much.

The lingering tension seemed to worsen the longer the silence proceeded. Crossing his legs over, Break hesitated for no more than a minute, before digging a hand into his bag and starting the conversation again. "You want a little pick me up?"

"Heh," Oz chuckled solemnly. "You sound like a dealer."

"Is there really much difference?" Break chimed, holding up a poorly rolled blunt between two fingers. He grinned. "Hm?"

There was a brief moment of silence, where Oz pondered on the offer, before a slight smile curved at his lips. "Yeah, sure."

"I'm surprised," Break pointed out, trying to conceal the fact he was _genuinely shocked_ that Oz had just accepted the offer for drugs. Without a word, he stuck the blunt between his teeth, pulling the lighter from his jacket pocket and smoothly lighting up. The smoke spiralled upwards, but the high wasn't enough to distract Break from the _awkwardness_ of this… exchange?

"Why do you have it?" Oz asked, the blunt promptly being passed to him, as he took a tentative but smooth hit.

"I've had it hidden in my bag for a while. Ah, just when it feels right, you know? Mhm… I was right to suspect that Reim _wouldn't_ recognise the smell of pot, thankfully." Break took the blunt back, dragging on it greedily. "I have to say, you don't strike me as the type of person who'd done drugs before."

Oz tried not to smile regretfully again, as he accepted the blunt once again and inhaled on it – once again, swiftly, as if it was hardly new to him. "I'd rather not go into it."

For the next few minutes, neither of them said a word. Instead, the time was filled by passing the blunt to one another a few times.

Eventually, Break got bored of the silence.

"Why are we here?" he asked, tone indecipherable, as he ground out the blunt into the grass.

His attention dedicated to the blades of grass which he fiddled with, Oz simply shrugged. "How long?"

As much as Break wanted to feign innocence, he knew it was pointless. Still, though, something about what was going on right now felt inherently _wrong._

"How about this, then," Oz said, "Everything you tell me, I tell you the same."

"I suppose we have to say _something_ ," Break snickered. "Otherwise this is pointless."

"Mhm." Oz nodded.

Break hesitated, almost wishing he had something stronger than weed. Then, he answered. "8 months, give or take. Since the holidays of year 12 into 13, to be specific." He paused, but clearly wasn't done. "Well, the second time, at least. I'm sure you know about the first time."

Oz and Break had been in the same group since secondary school. It wasn't much of a mystery.

Slowly, Oz nodded.

"And you?" Break asked, briefly gesturing to Oz.

Subconsciously pulling his sleeves further over his wrists, Oz glanced down once again. Sheepishly, he spoke. "4 years. Everyday."

Break had to bite down on the inside of his mouth in order to stop himself reacting visibly. "I see," he said, "Does that, by any chance, have to do with why you leave your house early?"

Oz froze immediately.

"I can see the bruises, you know," Break added, watching Oz tense up even more. "I know it's not Ada who does that. And there's only one other person who could be at fault."

"Yeah…" Oz sighed, a sad, almost depressed aura clinging to his words. "I leave early to get away from… my father. Usually I just… get what I need to do done, and then… get out before he wakes up."

From the very brief, momentary gesture to his wrists, Break was pretty sure he knew what he meant. It was crushing, and even though they weren't really close, he still wanted to go right over to Oz's house and kill his father. Oz was a good kid; everyone knew that. He _couldn't_ have done _anything_ to deserve _this_ kind of treatment. But, he couldn't. If Break did anything outside of their deal, Oz would be going straight to Reim, and he knew it.

"Only the morning?"

Wordlessly, Oz shook his head. "At least twice a day. It's… a little random; sometimes based on opportunity."

The silence resumed, to no surprise. Ultimately, Break knew he'd be answering the same question in a second.

Oz, not needing to say a single word to get the point across, stared expectantly at him.

"Four times a day," Break sighed, dropping his line of view. He knew it was bad. He didn't need a disappointed silence from Oz. "Three minimum."

Silence, again. Oz couldn't think of another question. He didn't want to ask anything which would be awkward to be asked back. (Which was most things, unfortunately.)

Instead, after another minute of no one uttering a sound, he chuckled, the haziness from the drugs finally getting to him. "This is weird. We're just… talking about our problems, and yet… nothing is getting saved."

"Hm." Break paused. "Better each other than the people we're closest to."

"Yeah… I guess you're right."

"Mhm," Break hummed again, before grabbing his bag and standing up abruptly, swaying a little as he did so. "If we're done here, for now, I ought to go. I have Physics work due in… half an hour, give or take~"

"Are you any better at Physics when you're high?" Oz asked, tilting his head.

"Hm, no," Break frowned. "If anything, I'm worse."

"Ah."

"Hopefully, if I go through the questions and draw some question marks, it'll look like I tried."

Chuckling under his breath, Oz followed a few footsteps behind break. He trod lightly, feeling practically weightless. Odd, since he'd never opened up like this to anyone before, and drugs didn't have _this_ much of an effect, usually.

If this was all this _deal_ entailed, then perhaps things might just be okay.

* * *

"Leo? Are you paying attention?"

For the fifth time that hour, Leo wanted to strangle his teacher at the sound of his voice.

"Did you ask me something?" he drawled out, trying to conceal the irritability in his words, as he pulled the pen away from his teeth and glanced up at his Biology teacher. Thanks to his glasses, he wouldn't see the venom in his glare.

"Yes," the teacher sighed, gesturing to the diagram on the board. "Which synapse is this?"

"I have no idea," Leo said bluntly. He could feel everyone in the class staring at him in awe, but he couldn't give less of a shit.

The teacher frowned. "See me after class, please."

Under his breath, Leo cursed. "For fuck's sake."

Clearly, though, it wasn't under his breath _enough_ ; Elliot heard.

"It's your own fault for not showing up," the blonde scoffed.

Along with that teacher, Leo wouldn't have minded giving Elliot a slap, too.

He wasn't usually this intolerant. Today, however, it seemed as if everything was collectively working against him. For one, his absences in Biology had finally caught up to him, and his place in the final A Level exam was put on the line if he didn't stop skipping. Today was a full day, as well, and Biology would've been the lesson he skipped for the sake of catching up on work for the other lessons.

And to top all of that off, Flo was being a stubborn ass – in his opinion – this morning, and had refused to lend him any money to buy cigarettes, so his last smoke was yesterday evening. To make that worse, until he got more money _somehow_ , he was without, putting him even more on edge.

Leo tried so hard no to make Elliot suspicious, but he was fairly certain he'd failed at this point. Especially since he'd spent the last hour of this godforsaken Biology lesson effectively smoking the pen and resisting the urge to throw something across the room.

After what felt like an eternity, the lesson was finally over.

Before he could leave, though, his teacher called him over, dismissing Elliot. At least they were alone, Leo considered briefly. Because, despite what he might protest, Elliot would have sided with the teacher.

Perching on the side of his desk, his teacher promptly crossed his arm over his chest, and directed his stern gaze on Leo. "We need to talk about your attitude."

It took an incredible amount of self-restraint for Leo not to roll his eyes. The conversation hadn't even started yet, and he already couldn't wait for it to be over.

"You haven't shown up a significant amount recently. It's not like you. And unfortunately, it's having an impact on your grades," he sighed. "Considering you haven't shown up to our last two mock tests, I'm going to have to put a U down on your final report."

 _That_ got Leo's attention.

Sure, he technically already had a place at Oxford. He was predicted the right grades, and they'd liked him at the interview. So, it wasn't like his place was compromised or anything. However, getting a U in _anything_ at this point in his A Levels would spur at the very least an intervention.

"Can't I resit?" Leo tried. "I can learn the stuff. Just give me a week-"

"I emailed you and offered a resit multiple times, Leo. You ignored me every time," he cut him off, holding a hand up to halt the other. "So no. You're not resitting." He paused, seemingly waiting for Leo to reply. But he never did. "You're an exceptional student, Leo, and it's incredible that you've been offered a place at Oxford. I can understand if Biology isn't your favourite subject, but you have a lot of potential. Your ability to learn and recall information is astonishing. But I'm afraid you're reaching a point where you're going to struggle catching up."

"Cheers for that," Leo said sarcastically, letting his words slip before he could remind himself who he was speaking to right now. "Now I know I'm _officially_ fucked."

"Don't use that kind of language with me."

Biting back a scoff, Leo rolled his eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Alright," he mumbled sulkily, "Sorry."

"Why aren't you showing up?" The teacher questioned, his tone softening. "What happened to your work ethic?"

He didn't want to think about the cigarettes, or how _badly_ he needed one. He didn't want to think about the drugs, and how – in about ten minutes – it'd be time to shoot up again. Hell, he didn't want to think about the situation with Elliot. Or Vanitas, for that matter.

There were so, so many answers which were painfully true. But instead, Leo simply sighed, and shrugged. "Too much work."

"I know you're doing four subjects, but you're more than capable of getting four A*s if you just put in the work."

"I _am_ putting in work," Leo countered. "Ask my Literature and Music teachers. They'll tell you."

"I don't want to keep telling you off for attitude," he scolded. "You can leave now. I expect to see you in _all_ our lessons, between now and exams. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Leo grumbled, almost inaudibly. Dragging himself out of the classroom, he was eternally thankful that Elliot had the patience of a twig, and had consequently given up on waiting for him.

Finding Elliot was, however, the last thing he wanted to do. Instead, he spun on his heel, and headed straight to the library to try and cram the content he'd missed in total isolation.

* * *

It was only a day or so into this _alliance_ , but Break and Oz were already starting to form a timetable of their _habits._

Currently, as the time neared the end of lunch, the two had retreated to the bathroom, praying they didn't seem too suspicious, to _indulge._ There was, unfortunately, no nicer way of putting it. Couple that with the fact they were both coming down from weed, it wasn't the most _positive_ interaction they'd ever had.

"You're very quiet," Oz pointed out nonchalantly as the stall behind him swung open. He stood at the sink, running cold water over the fresh wounds, self-inflicted less than two minutes ago.

Break chuckled, wandering over the sink beside the blonde and dragging a hand through his hair. "Should I take that as a compliment?"

"Hm," Oz hummed, furrowing his brow slightly at the last cut, which _annoyingly_ persisted to bleed. "No. It's more worrying, if anything. It… shows you have a lot of experience in keeping this a secret."

Silently, Break nodded.

And the two proceeded to, as usual, stand awkwardly, in silence.

After another minute of trying to get one of the cuts to stop bleeding, Oz was beginning to feel light headed. He should've panicked. But really, this wasn't a _rare_ occurrence. From beside him, Break finally finished washing his hands, pulling out his bottle of water and tipping it down the sink.

The perplexed gaze spread across Oz's face was quickly replaced by an expression of subtle shock when the other retrieved a bottle of vodka from his bag. Break saw him stare, but for him, his attention was clearly directed at the red-dyed water, running down the sink and into the plug.

Quickly, Oz picked up on where he was staring, as well. He gave a sheepish laugh. "Do you ever get worried you'll go too far?"

"Hm. Perhaps," Break said, emotionless. "But I could say the same to you."

"Yeah…" Oz frowned. His eyes softened, briefly, before he forced eye contact with the other. "You should really control your drinking though."

As if out of spite, Break lifted the bottle (now filled with vodka) to his lips, and sipped nonchalantly. The burning taste didn't faze him one bit. "How come?"

"I know I'm not one to lecture you on healthy coping mechanisms…" Oz broke eye contact, glancing downwards, relieved to see the tap water clear once again. "But drinking neat vodka for lunch is… well, another level."

"Hm. You could be right." Break knocked back another mouthful momentarily. "But that's a discussion for another time."

Wordlessly, Oz nodded, before following the other out of the bathroom; back to the canteen, where they'd be back to pretending everything was fine.

Maybe, he thought to himself, if they pretended for long enough, it might even begin to feel like that, too.

* * *

Tonight, Levi was hosting the usual Friday night get-together.

Lacie didn't like Levi.

It hadn't always been like that. In hindsight, they should've seen it coming, since Lacie seemed to be capable of developing beef with literally anyone. In this instance, though, she blamed Levi. He was the one who spread the rumours they'd slept together online. _He_ was the one who caused Jack to go bat-shit crazy on her.

She would never sleep with him anyway. Lacie liked to consider herself as someone with _standards_.

It was already 8:30pm, the others having arrived awhile ago. But when the invitation came straight from Levi, Lacie was reluctant to leave until she knew she wouldn't get stuck alone with him.

Only now did she arrive, banging impatiently on the door before pulling her phone out.

A minute later, the door opened.

"You know," Levi said, "the door doesn't open faster if you bang louder."

"My mistake." Lacie delivered her response with a bitter smile.

Vaguely, Levi gestured to the half-drunk bottle of Echo Falls in her hand. "Nice to see you bought us a drink."

Lacie shrugged, before inviting herself inside. "I got thirsty."

Levi had, undoubtedly, always been the richest of all of them. And considering there was a decent amount of competition in the group, that meant something. His house was immaculate, but as with Domi, and Lacie, and occasionally Jeanne, his parents often left him to his own devices.

When Lacie eventually made it to the conservatory, where they usually spent their nights, everyone else was – thankfully – already there. Lottie was stretched across one of the chairs, her face glued to her phone, whilst Domi and Jeanne were curled up together (more so than usual, actually) on the sofa. Without much deliberation, Lacie dropped down on the chair across from Lottie.

"Where's Oswald then?" Levi asked, opening the window and perching on the ledge, as he lit a cigarette.

"Couldn't be fucked, to quote him," Lacie said. Narrowing her eyes, she pointed at Domi and Jeanne, raising an eyebrow along with a quizzical glance. "I'm not imagining things. You two are being clingier than usual." She smirked. "Is there something you're not telling us~?"

"To be fair," Lottie interjected, "this is fairly normal."

The smirk which usually donned Domi's lips widened. Jeanne, on the other hand, was a blushing mess, desperately glancing up to Domi for guidance.

"Well…" Jeanne stammered. "We, um… w-"

"Yep! We're dating~!"

Whilst they _wanted_ to say congratulations, or ' _wow, that's amazing!'_ … this really wasn't a surprise.

"Congrats," Lottie snickered, "Haha. Lesbian."

"I'll have you know I'm _bisexual_ ," Domi corrected, her hand slipping down the Jeanne's thigh. "Tits are just better."

Lacie sighed from across the two, who promptly began debating which was better out of dicks and tits. A conversation which Levi seemed to want to weigh in on a concerning amount.

"So, Jeanne," she asked, "How did this come about?"

"Well… we both arranged blind dates earlier this week, coincidentally on the same night as each other, and then… it was with each other," Jeanne explained, the thought of it sending blood rushing to her face. "So we… went out to dinner together, as a date."

"What happened from there?" Lacie grinned. She could see where this story was going to end.

"I asked her out," Domi answered, leaving Levi and Lottie alone to flirt, now that their debate had come to an end.

"I-I confessed first…" Jeanne added.

Proudly, Domi winked. "My seduction plan worked."

Lacie didn't have the nerve to challenge Domi on that one. Instead, she simply cocked an eyebrow judgementally.

Lottie, on the other hand, had no qualms asking what they were all thinking. "So, you fucked already?"

"Of course!" Domi said, somewhat defensively, her grip on Jeanne's thigh tightening. "First dates exist for the sole purpose of hooking up, right?"

"For once," Lottie said with a smirk, "I agree with you."

* * *

It was the third night this week Vanitas had agreed to meet up in secret with Leo, and he _still_ couldn't believe he'd _met_ him.

Needless to say, Vanitas felt like shit after last night. Him and Noé had barely spoken to each other at college today. Sure, he shouldn't have stormed off, and the guilt from that was irritating. But what weighed him down and constantly ate at his conscience was the fact _Noé_ _knew about the drugs._

Hence, he was meeting Leo. Talking things out with the one person who could empathise the most would surely be damn-near therapeutic.

He lit a cigarette, mindlessly dragging on the smoke as he leant against the smoke.

Eventually – 5 minutes late – Leo arrived. As usual, the first thing the two did was pull each other into a tight hug. Sure, it might've been how Vanitas _also_ greeted his boyfriend, but it wasn't the same. It didn't mean anything unless they were romantically involved.

"You okay?" Vanitas asked, tilting his head at the other, who seemed weirdly distracted. He inhaled on the cigarette, pulling away from Leo.

"Hm," Leo grunted, his eyes fixing on the plumes of smoke for a fraction of a second.

"Jeez, ok," Vanitas sighed, "What happened?"

Glancing down at the ground, Leo furrowed his eyebrows, seemingly reluctant to say anything but answering nonetheless. "I ran out of cigarettes last night. My foster sister was being a stubborn shit and didn't lend me any money. And I've had the shittiest day ever, thanks for asking, and it's been over 24 hours since my last smoke."

"Shit, all day?" Vanitas winced internally. "You must be desperate." Without hesitation, he extended the half burnt-out cigarette to Leo. "Take it; I'll roll another."

Leo clearly didn't want to say it, but from the way he took the cigarette gratefully and inhaled like his life depended on it, Vanitas could tell that – in that moment – he genuinely needed it. Whilst rolling and lighting another for himself, he simply waiting in silence for a few moments.

Then, he spoke again. "You couldn't borrow money from Elliot?"

Inhaling on the cigarette again, Leo shook his head. "No. He doesn't know. He'd probably break up with me if he found out, too."

"You wouldn't quit for him?"

"Fuck no," Leo said, screwing his face up as he flicked the ash off the cigarette. "I started when I was like 12. I'm not stopping now."

"Wait, seriously?" Vanitas found himself gawking over that little addition. Not even _he_ could compete with _that_.

"Mhm," Leo nodded, albeit sheepishly. "It was when I was in-between foster homes. There was about a month during which I was in the care home with a few slightly older guys, and I got involved with them. By the time I was taken into my current foster home, I'd already made a habit out of it."

"Woah," was all Vanitas could bring himself to say. "I always thought Noé would be more annoyed than he was. I think he was more curious, at first. Now he just accepts it. A little bit like with the tongue piercing."

"Elliot is just… judgemental," Leo frowned, sucking the life from the cigarette before grinding it out with his foot, tucking his arms beside his chest. "He can't know about _any_ of what goes on outside of college. That'd be the end of us. He already pries too much about my biological parents, and… why I'm in foster care."

"He doesn't know about that?"

Wordlessly, Leo paused, then shook his head.

"Fairs. Noé is too soft to ask about that," Vanitas snickered. His grin, however, soon faded, morphing into a resentful scowl. "There's this girl we hang out with – _Florence_ – who's like, two years younger. She's the only _difficult_ friend I have. I hate her."

There was a brief moment of silence, during which Leo's head whipped up, and he stared blankly at the other. "Pink hair? Doing A levels early? Always wears over-sized shirts?"

"Uh, yeah…" Vanitas said uneasily, "Why?"

"Mhm. Yeah, Flo." Leo's expression conveyed a whole array of emotions. "That's my foster sister you're talking about."

"Shit, really? Sorry. I hate her."

"Don't apologise. We both do," Leo chuckled lightly; although forced. "She's irritating, and explosive. We both are. She's the only other person who knows about the smoking, and that tends to be the root of most of our arguments. The most annoying thing is that she actually cares about me, I think. She pries for information like Elliot does." He continued shuffling the dirt around beneath his feet, refusing eye contact. "Did… you never realise she was in foster care?"

"Well, she mentioned it, but…" Vanitas paused to drag on the cigarette, before pulling out the loose tobacco and rolling a second for the other. "I guess it never really clicked? She never mentions having a foster brother."

"I'm surprised." Leo, once again, gratefully accepted the cigarette, lighting it like it was his last lifeline. "I'm also surprised she doesn't tell Elliot stuff he's… _not supposed_ to know." He paused for a few moments. "But she… she doesn't know about the drugs."

For a minute, Vanitas simply stared in contemplation at Leo. "Your relationship seems so much more… difficult than mine. Noé is like a puppy. He's easy, and incredibly simple to satisfy."

"Yeah." Leo deadpanned through a cloud of smoke. "Elliot is… the opposite, you see."

"Man, I hope things get better for you…" Vanitas exhaled. "Noé can't know about the drugs, though. Particularly after what happened to Louis. It would break him. And he already knows too much."

"Hm?"

Sure enough, the guilt returned to the forefront of Vanitas' mind. "He _sort of_ knows about the drugs now. _Experimentation_ , in his eyes. I don't know how long it'll be before he wants to know more."

"I don't even want to think about what Elliot would do, or say, or _think_." Leo paused, pacing back a fourth a little. "He might be a pain in the ass, but… I'm not ready to lose him yet."

"That's…" Vanitas was, for once, totally lost for words. "I… hope things get a little easier for you."

"Yeah…" Leo smiled. The smile was completely forced, though. "Me too."


	8. Chapter 8

_**(A/Ns: woah look it's been under 2 weeks again. exam season is over for now so i have oodles of time.  
content warnings: binge drinking, smoking, swearing, drug use, some sexy shit, descriptions (i think) of dysphoria, crying, sorry my hand slipped.  
enjoy? that or feel sad. **_

_**disclaimer: i do not own pandora hearts or vanitas no carte)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

Just once – _just once_ – Reim would've liked Break to show up to college on time.

Unfortunately, he had no control over the other. He wasn't his _parent_ (not that Break listened to his parents much more, and everyone knew that), and he didn't have the same connection to him that Sharon did. Still, though, they only had to show up to tutor once a week. Surely it couldn't be _too_ hard just to _show up_?

At the very least, Reim was able to get on with his practice essay in peace without listening to Break whining about how he had to re-sit his Physics and Sociology mocks, albeit the room was fairly noisy. Most students seemed numb to the fact they had _actual_ exams in _less than two months_.

After ten minutes of intense study, Break finally rocked up, dragging himself into the classroom, acknowledging that the seat next to Reim was the only place left, and reluctantly approaching him. Reim, of course, knew that it was best he didn't react right now, choosing to instead watch from his peripheral vision. The aura from Break was off-putting, but what was even more off-putting was the faint smell of alcohol and smoke which clung to him.

His hood hung over his face, Break slumped his head against the table, not catching even a glimpse of the stern expression glare directed at him.

With an audible huff, Reim dropped his pen, and yanked the hood off Break's head. "You're hungover again."

Groggily, Break peeled his face off the table, gave a wry smile, before dropping the façade all together. "A liiiittle bit~"

"Where were you last night?" Reim interrogated. "Need I remind you that it was a _Monday_ night? Where would you _possibly_ have wanted to go on a _Monday night_?"

"Relax, Reim," Break groaned, leaning his head on his elbow and sighing exhaustedly. "I was only at the bar with a few friends from my Chemistry, that's all."

" _'_ _Only'_ ," Reim retorted sarcastically. He sniffed. "Have you been _smoking_?"

"Hm," Break hummed as he fiddled with his septum ring. "Socially."

"Give me your bag," Reim said. Really, he couldn't be bothered with Break already. "I don't trust you."

Break, reluctantly, hauled his bag off the floor, and dumped it on Reim's lap, before planting his face back onto the table.

Aside from the concern at the lack of books and paper and _completed_ assignments, there wasn't much to spark interrogation. Spare the pack of cigarettes, that was, which were promptly held up. " _Really_ , Xerx?"

Sitting up again, Break shrugged. "They're not mine."

"Good," Reim said, pocketing them himself. "Because you're not getting them back."

Too exhausted to argue, the other simply rolled his eyes. Slapping a hand over his forehead, he winced at the light, snatching the bag back off Reim and retrieving the water bottle.

It was discrete, but Reim still saw the slight grimace which tugged across Break's face when he sipped on the water.

 _Water_.

 _Oh shit_. The realisation hit Reim like a train. _That's not water_.

"I'll be taking that too," he said in a haste, grabbing the bottle from Break's clasp before he could even comprehend what he'd said. He frowned, sniffing the bottle. Which was, sure enough, _not_ filled with water. " _Seriously_ , Xerx? This is _pure vodka_ in here."

Break tried to laugh it off. " _Hair of the dog_ method, you see~"

"That's called alcoholism." Reim deadpanned.

Sure enough, Break resumed sulking a moment later. He snorted. "Hardly."

To Reim, however, this little _revelation_ felt like a stab in the back. Surely – _surely_ – his drinking _alone_ couldn't be the reason Break had distanced himself so much.

Right?

"Is _this_ what's been going on with you lately?" Reim asked. It was interrogative, but with sincerity laced into his words all the same.

The pause between the question and the answer was… concerning, to say the least; it made Reim wonder if this was _truly_ the problem to begin with.

"Ok, ok, confession time: I _may_ have been drinking a little more than usual recently. Exam stress, and such," Break chimed, the hangover still audibly weighing him down nonetheless. "But rest assured, Reim, I have this _totally_ under control. I am promise you I am _fine_."

Reim wasn't buying it.

But he didn't want to lose trust _completely_. He didn't _want_ to exercise the thought that Break had been hiding a drinking problem for who-knows-how-long. And he couldn't fathom what would happen if he ended up shipped off to rehab and thrown into withdrawal, a mere couple of months before his A Levels. Because, now that it had an explanation, the light trembling in Break's hands made him flat-out _nauseous_.

"Tell me honestly, Xerx," he said, "If you had to, right now… could you stop?"

The hesitation in his response made Reim's blood run cold.

But as usual, Break replied – cheerfully as ever – after a few seconds contemplation. "Of course!"

"Good." Reim picked up the pen, signalling the end of that discussion. "Then stop now, before I tell Sharon about this, and send you to rehab."

* * *

"Gil."

No response.

"Gillllll."

Still nothing.

"Giiillllllllllll~"

"Hold on," Gilbert muttered in response. Oz sighed, and gave a fake pout, but Gilbert showed no remorse. "Let me finish this question."

With another audible huff, Oz gave up for the time being, sinking against the wall and glancing back down at his textbook. It was just a blur of words at this point; nothing was going in.

The college day had ended about 45 minutes ago. But, as per usual, Oz wanted to find any excuse possible not to go home. Unfortunately, Alice had detention, but on the bright side of things, Gilbert had agreed to stay with him, and Alice would no doubt want to go out and get food once her detention was over.

Gilbert didn't seem to _want_ to stay, mind you. He probably did it out of pity. So, Oz let him focus on his work. (Provided he got a _little_ attention every now and then.)

A few minutes later, Gilbert dropped the pen, picked up the mark scheme, and smiled.

"You work really hard at Physics," Oz remarked, spinning around and face-planting the window sill.

"Well…" Gilbert stammered, shooting a confused glance at Oz before shaking it off. "It's a hard subject, and I only got a C in the mock. And I… don't think I'll get an A in Business, so… if I want AAB, I need to get a… an A in this."

"I'm sure Gil will get an A if he keeps working hard. Gil is _realllllyyyy_ smart," Oz chuckled, sitting up as Gil turned the page, and began working on the next question. "Hmm… maybe you could help Break sometime?"

Gilbert dropped the pen, and froze. He sighed, staring off into the distance, seemingly formulating what he was going to say. "Break is… stubborn. I can't really help him. It's like he's… built a wall around himself. Even if he _does_ understand something, he refuses to acknowledge that he actually does. And he just… gives up." The air hung thick around them, but Gilbert wasn't finished speaking. "But, I don't think he _wants_ to give up, because he gets frustrated when he can't do it. Yet, at the same time, he seems to… straight-up _refuse_ help from anyone to tries to help him, so he ends up just… going around in circles, I guess."

Oz had never heard of that side of Break before. And yet, he couldn't say it _surprised_ him. "Hm…"

"You know…" Gilbert said, "You should look out for yourself sometimes…"

The blonde said nothing. He glanced down, wordlessly, and pulled his sleeves over his wrists.

"You… seem to have been talking to Break a lot recently, that's all…" Gilbert continued, "And I just… please don't forget about yourself too. I… don't want you to hurt yourself, by stressing over things you can't control, you know?"

"Yeah, thanks Gil." Oz couldn't hold back the slight smile tugging at his lips. "I promise."

His chest ached. It was a blatant lie, and he knew it. Stressing over things he couldn't control was the only thing Oz could ever bring himself to do. That, and hurting himself.

"You know…" he snickered, grinning deviously. "I _could_ say the same to you, _Gil_."

"Wha-"

Without warning, Oz leapt forward, reached past Gilbert's shoulder, and swiped the pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket.

"Wait, don't-!" Gilbert tried to stop him. Unfortunately, he was a couple of seconds too late; by the time he caught up to what had actually happened, Oz had already found the cigarettes, and was now tossing the box up and down. He stared nonchalantly at Gil, making his reaction totally unreadable if it wasn't for the eyebrow raised in judgement.

Gilbert, flustered from the initial panic, tried desperately to muster up an excuse. After five seconds, however, he gave up, sinking forward and exhaling again. "Sorry. I should've told you. But I… was worried you'd be… disappointed."

Oz kept his stern stare for another few seconds, before breaking into a grin and chuckling. "Hehe, I'm not going to _judge_ you, Gil." He snickered again. "Besides, it was obvious."

"Sorry…" Gilbert apologised again. "T-That was… Break's fault, too…"

"Break, huh?" Oz quipped. He pondered for a moment, before asking, "Does Break smoke too?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Gilbert stared at him blankly. "I thought people… generally knew that?"

"Eh, no," Oz said bluntly. "Hehe, I think you've just exposed him."

"O-Oh…" Gilbert murmured. "P-Pretend I didn't tell you that, please…"

"Alllllright~" Oz handed back the cigarettes, picking up his phone and checking the time. "You know… there's still 15 minutes before Alice gets out, so you _could_ sneak one now…"

"Uh? I-It's fine, honestly," Gilbert stammered. In truth, he felt stupidly exposed. Particularly since he'd somewhat lied to Oz. But he didn't want Oz to think any _less_ of him than he probably already did. "I-I'm not like Vince. I can… go without."

"Hm… how are things with him now?"

Gilbert glanced down, hoping they'd avoid that topic. "I… don't want to talk about it."

"Hmm. Fine."

The two fell into an awkward silence for the next 10 minutes, Oz face-planting the textbook whilst Gilbert carried on with his work.

Neither of them spoke a single word to each other from then on; what broke the silence was Alice, bounding down the corridor and launching herself onto Oz's back.

"Wah-!?"

"I'm out!" Alice screeched, sliding off Oz before screwing her face up. "It's really gloomy here! What the hell happened?" She turned to Gilbert. "Oi! Have you upset Oz or somethin'?!"

Oz and Gilbert exchanged awkward glances for a second, before chuckling.

"He hasn't hurt me, Alice," Oz sighed. He smiled; Alice always made him smile, purely with her stupidity. "Ah, are we still good to go and grab food somewhere?"

"Of course!" Alice yelled, as excitable as usual. "I'm starving!"

"Gil?" Oz asked, nudging the other with a smirk. "Hehe, we need a lift anyway."

"I don't start work until six, so…" Gilbert would've preferred to revise, but he couldn't say no to Oz. A break might do them _all_ some good. "Yeah, I'm in."

Oz smiled, and discreetly exhaled a sigh of relief as they headed out to the car park; for once, he had an actual reason to stay out later than usual.

* * *

Vincent was crafty. And he knew that.

Crafty, and risky. _Stupid_ was what his brother called it, but Gilbert wasn't here right now. It had just passed 8pm, and although a rarity, his parents were home; that was _hardly_ going to stop Vincent sneaking outside to the front of the house for his usual nicotine fix.

Besides, he was expecting someone.

And sure enough, a few minutes later, Vincent spotted his guest strutting down the pavement to his house, the heels of her boots clicking against the gravel as she approached him; the usual smirk donning her lips.

"Good evening," Vincent said in a whisper, sucking the life from the cigarette and dropping it on the ground, before taking two steps forward and wrapping an arm around her waist. Lips planted onto hers, he kissed her lightly once, and then slid his tongue past her lips.

Lottie smirked into the kiss; Ada was lucky if she was getting _this_ on a daily basis.

… but Ada didn't need to know about _this_.

Pulling away, Lottie's mouth dropped open to speak, but before she could, Vincent placed a finger over her lips. "Shh."

With the hand not on her waist, Vincent pulled out the keys to Gilbert's car, which he _mistakenly_ left behind. And, although sceptical, Lottie didn't say anything as she climbed into the passenger seat and allowed Vincent to start the engine.

"Do you even have your driver's license?" She cocked an eyebrow suspiciously.

Putting the car in reverse, Vincent grinned. "Provisional." His grin widened. "But I'm sure Gilbert won't mind me _borrowing_ his car whilst he's at work."

"I beg to differ," Lottie muttered under her breath, as Vincent pulled out onto the road. "Where are we going?"

"A hotel, somewhere; I don't want to disturb Gil, you see," Vincent answered, "I also don't want anyone getting the wrong idea about us."

"I mean, you are cheating on your girlfriend." A smirk soon tugged at Lottie's lips. "But it's with _me_ , so I can understand your dilemma~"

"You get plenty from this too." Vincent smiled in response.

The drive to the hotel on the other side of town took no longer than ten minutes. The receptionist gave Vincent a strange glance when he handed her a credit card, but she didn't question it fortunately.

"How are you paying for this?" Lottie questioned when Vincent took her hand and led her to their designated room. "You know I would have paid. I'm _loaded_."

"I appreciate the offer, but that won't be necessary." The smirk donning Vincent's lips, _somehow_ , grew even more devious, as he held up the credit card he'd paid on. "This is my parents' card, you see."

"Daring~" Lottie chimed, seduction laced into her words as Vincent pushed open the door to their room. "I like that in a man."

"I'll give you my best."

The second after he spoke those words, Vincent grabbed her by the shoulders, spun her around, and pushed her backwards, the two collapsing onto the mattress in sync. One hand sliding down Lottie's crop-top, he slowly clambered over her, his legs straddling her hips. Unhooking her bra, Vincent stripped her of her top entirely, before shrugging the leather jacket off his shoulders.

He leant down, feeling her smirk against the kiss. He knew she liked it a little rougher (and _better_ ) than he gave it to Ada. Whilst his left hand cupped the side of her face, bringing it closer to him as he slipped his tongue past her lips, his right hand snuck down to her mini-skirt. Sliding his fingers over the hem of her thong, Vincent grinned into the kiss, pulling down the fabric and flinging it over his shoulder.

His arousal pressing into the side of her thigh, Lottie eventually got the hint, her false nails dragging temptingly down his arm before reaching his pants. Swiftly, she undid the zipper, pulling down his jeans as he hoisted her up.

Right when Lottie tugged down his pants entirely, Vincent groped blindly at the wall and switched the lights off. Neither of them got around to closing the curtains; anyone who happened to glance in on _this_ action should consider themselves lucky.

As usual, though… _this_ was entirely a secret, just between the two of them.

To them, Ada needn't know about _any_ of it.

* * *

In her 16 years of being alive, Flo couldn't remember a time when she actually _liked_ herself.

It had always been small, trivial things. Some could be attributed to what her previous relatives said to her; some things just felt like deep-rooted discomfort, which she could never put a label to. It just wasn't right. And that was that.

Flo had gradually learned to move on with her life, albeit sometimes, she had bad days. And this just so _happened_ to be one of them.

The time was already reaching 10pm, which felt stupid when she'd _wasted_ the last half an hour searching for something to wear which _didn't_ make her uncomfortable. (Well, more uncomfortable than standing in the mirror – regardless of what she was wearing – felt.)

So far, it was unsuccessful – as indicated by the ridiculous pile of t-shirts thrown onto her bed.

All Flo was trying to do was pick a goddamn outfit for tomorrow. But everything she tried on, from jumpers to t-shirts, were all… bad. For whatever reason, she hated them. Everything looked stupid on her. It was either too tight, or it was shaped strangely. Either way, after half an hour, all she'd achieved was a huge mountain of rejects, and the feeling she could cry at any minute.

"Stupid…" she muttered to herself, almost inaudibly. Her chest ached; the only way to stop the tears welling in her eyes was to stop what she was doing, inhale, exhale, and then open her eyes again.

She still wasn't happy. Tears relentlessly began to brim in her eyes, and this time, an irritated sniff and wipe of the eyes _still_ wasn't enough to get rid of them.

Reluctantly, Flo gave up; jeans and an over-sized hoodie would have to suffice… even if it was going to be 20 degrees.

Throwing the clothes onto her floor, Flo quickly got dressed into her pyjamas, before sliding into bed and curling up into a ball. Her knees pressed tightly into her chest, and even though it hurt, it felt most comfortable.

After letting a few last tears drip down her cheeks, she finally sat up again, picking up her book and opening the page with the folded over corner. It was book called "If I Was Your Girl." Flo had seen it mentioned somewhere on Tumblr a few weeks ago, and was captivated by the summary and reviews alone.

… not that that meant anything, of course.

She was only reading for two minutes before her chest began to tighten again, and tears began to well in her eyes, dripping over her eyelids and pouring down her cheeks in a seemingly endless stream. Naturally, the book fell from her hands, closing the page she was on.

Everything felt so… overwhelming. Her thoughts and feelings all going a billion miles an hour made her head spin.

Flo didn't know how much time passed before the door clicked open, her mother peaking around into her room.

"I heard you were upset," she said softly, her voice a whisper; the other kids must be in bed by now.

"I was silent." Flo sniffed, picking up her phone and discretely opening Tumblr.

"I know. Leo told me," she explained, stepping past the threshold into her room fully. "He said he heard crying. Do you want to talk about it?"

 _Son of a bitch_ , Flo cursed internally. "No. Go away."

"Flo, I'm trying to help-"

"Get out!" she screamed. The moment the look of fear and shock spread across her mother's face, a pang of guilt shot through her. But before she could apologise, her mother turned away, closing the door silently.

Inhaling deeply, Flo tried to revert her focus to her phone. Namely, Tumblr.

Tumblr, unfortunately, was not particularly helpful right now. Each time she read another stupid pride post, she was left with the same irritating question to herself.

What _if_ – and that wasn't to say it was set in stone and fated by the entire fucking universe and it was unchangeable – but what _if_ she was trans? Then what?

It wasn't something Flo liked to think too much about. She hated overthinking it, because each time she did, she got a little closer to reaching an answer; an answer she didn't like, all because this _stupid_ discomfort which stuck on her conscience 24/7 never _really_ left her alone to think rationally about this.

And nights like these were becoming concerningly frequent as of late.

With tears still streaming down her face, Flo closed Tumblr, and loaded up the messages with the only friend she felt she had any grounds to trust.

 ** _[To Roland (aka jesus), 22:49]  
_** _I'm sorry for pushing you away when I know something is wrong_

The second after she'd sent the message, Flo regretted her decision.

But, in his own ways, Roland had always been there. Further demonstrating that was the fact he messaged back within a minute.

 ** _[From Roland (aka jesus), 22:49]  
_** _You can talk to me about it anytime. I will always be here to listen._

 ** _[To Roland (aka jesus), 22:50]  
_** _Sorry, I panicked_

 ** _[To Roland (aka jesus), 22:50]  
_** _I don't want to talk about it yet_

The next message truly reminded her why Roland was, all in all, a good person.

 ** _[From Roland (aka jesus), 22:52]  
_** _That's ok. I'll be here to listen, and listen only, when you need me to listen._

Soon enough, her eyes were glazed by tears once again. Eventually, with tears still trailing down her cheeks and her phone still clutched in her hand, Flo fell asleep.

* * *

Gilbert was sick of his brother at this point. He was sick of him randomly disappearing. He was sick of him avoiding the little responsibilities he had. He was sick of lying to their parents about where he'd gone.

Above all, though, he was sick of getting home from work at 9:30pm, and finding his car, keys, and their parents' credit card gone.

He hadn't even tried to cover for him this time. There was no point. If Vincent wanted to explain where he was, _with Gilbert's car_ , then he could. Obviously, though, he didn't want to explain himself, because it was 1am, and he had yet to return.

Only half an hour ago had their parents finally given up waiting for him to return, and gone to sleep, worrying about where he was. And the guilt was eating Gilbert alive; he shouldn't have left his keys at home, particularly when this wasn't the first time he'd pulled this stunt.

Finally, though, the house was quiet, and Gilbert took the opportunity to sneak downstairs for a smoke. It wasn't until the pack of cigarettes was clutched in his hand and he was almost outside that Gilbert remembered how much he needed one; he hadn't smoked since that morning, and the situation with Vincent _certainly_ didn't help him.

Speaking of Vincent, the front door clicked open a second later.

"Vince," Gilbert whispered aggressively. He really didn't have the energy or willpower to deal with him right now. "Give me back my keys."

"Hm?"

There it was.

He was stoned.

"My keys, Vince," Gilbert sighed, "You have my car keys."

"Ah, yes." Vincent's focus seemed non-existent. He blindly groped at his pocket for a few moments, before pulling out the keys and dropping them in Gilbert's hand.

"You're walking tomorrow," Gilbert deadpanned, blatantly unimpressed. "Where even were you?"

The grin which tugged across Vincent's lips, as he turned towards the stairs, made him feel sick. "I think it's best you don't know."

"Vince, you can't get away with being stupid and irresponsible forever." He felt his cool slipping from his control; frustration welled within him further. "And you're being reckless! I-"

"Gil, please don't shout at me. I'm currently very high right now and nothing you say is sinking in."

"I…" Gilbert stammered. Then, his heart sunk. "Just… got upstairs."

It pissed him off, because _nothing_ – not even the fact he'd clearly upset his family – could wipe that stupid grin from Vincent's face.

"Okay, Gil. Goodnight."

In honesty, Gilbert felt numb at this point. Because if he thought more about it, the more it weighed down on him. He was sure he held his breath right until he was outside, and the cigarette was lit in his hand.

And if his night couldn't get any worse, one slip of the hand when he loaded WhatsApp landed him in the chat with Oz.

Oz, who was – at 1am – still online.

Gilbert didn't want to care. He didn't want to beat himself up over it.

… with that in mind, he sent him a message.

 ** _[To Oz, 01:09]  
_** _is there a particular reason youre still up?_

The five-minute interval between him sending the message and receiving a reply was a little… off-putting.

 ** _[From Oz, 01:14]  
_** _talking to Break_

 ** _[From Oz, 01:14]  
_** _i know he wouldn't want me to tell you any of this but_

 ** _[From Oz, 01:15]  
_** _i really think he's dealing with a lot more than he's letting on_

Despite how passive aggressive it might have sounded, Gilbert left him on 'read'. Because, as much as he cared about Break and all, he could only wish for Oz to look out for himself _first_.


	9. UPDATE

hello!

due to lack of a following on , i will no longer be posting future chapters of Dirty Laundry on . if you wish to follow the fic, please find it on AO3 under the name i_write_hurt_not_comfort. chapters will be updated every 2-3 weeks, possibly longer/shorter depending on how much work i have.

thank you for reading so far!


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